


A Rose By Any Other Name

by Deductive_Logic



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, BAMF Margaery Tyrell, BAMF Robb Stark, BAMF Sansa Stark, BAMF Starks (ASoIaF), BAMF Tyrells, Catelyn Tully Stark Doesn't Hate Jon Snow, F/M, M/M, Multi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, R Plus L Equals J, Reach politics, Robb Stark is a Gift, Self-Insert, Westerosi Politics
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-23
Updated: 2021-02-18
Packaged: 2021-03-15 11:15:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 11
Words: 37,636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28937598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Deductive_Logic/pseuds/Deductive_Logic
Summary: "Do you want to be Queen?""No, I want to be THE Queen."The thrice-wedded, never-bedded Margaery Tyrell, in canon, was a queen slain long before her time, despite her careful politicking. As oft said, "When you play the Game of Thrones you win, or you die." How will a self-insert survive the horrors of dragonflame, frostbite, and/or death at the hands of angry lords, in the body of a medieval woman, to win the Game of Thrones?
Relationships: Alerie Tyrell/Mace Tyrell, Arianne Martell/Willas Tyrell, Catelyn Stark/Ned Stark, Domeric Bolton/Arya Stark, Edmure Tully/Cerenna Lannister, Loras Tyrell/Talla Tarly, Other Relationship Tags to Be Added, Renly Baratheon/Loras Tyrell, Robb Stark/Margaery Tyrell, Robb Stark/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 23
Kudos: 164





	1. MARGAERY I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to my first fanfic! When I originally read and watched the show, one character stood out to me - the sweet, Rose Queen, Margaery Tyrell, with her fascinating outlook and family disposition, and her cunning which would eventually get her killed in the original series. Margaery is in a pretty interesting position - probably the most qualified queen for the Iron Throne, but without an actual king to support her, and at the relative mercy of her family...so how would an SI that gets thrown into the world of Westeros handle the situation, knowing about all of the horrors, via either dragonflame or ice soldiers, and keep her family alive, in the position of a medieval woman? Let me know what you think!

**MARGAERY I**

"-though House Tyrell supported the Targaryens in the past, all that's left of them after the Usurper destroyed them are a little boy and girl on the other side of the Narrow Sea. Your oaf of a father-Margaery…Margaery, are you listening to me?"

"Yes, grandmother, I'm listening," I replied automatically, though truthfully, my mind was far from the subject at hand.

Living the past five years or so in another body and life was intimidating, but even more so the fact that I am now Margaery Tyrell, the so-called "Rose of Highgarden". Yes, you've read correctly, the Rose of Highgarden no longer exists, in a manner of speaking, but rather, replaced, by a reincarnation of a relatively average person. I could attempt to recount my past life for perspective, but truth be told, I hardly remember that life, other than a myriad of faces, events, and of course...the Series.

Ah yes, A Song of Ice And Fire. Or, I suppose, you could also refer to the TV Series, Game of Thrones. Maybe you were lucky enough to read GRRM's original outline of the series. Either way, all three of those have intersected into my life and filled me with nightmares of the future, where I either get burnt to a crisp or...well, the books weren't exactly clear on the fate of Her last I checked, and I don't think the outline featured Her or House Tyrell either. Either way, I'm stuck with foreknowledge of events which end terribly for everyone in House Tyrell, with Bronn of all people ending up with Highgarden. The idea of my (new?) homeland controlled by a sellsword crook filled me with dread, especially combined with the thought of all of House Tyrell dying.

Now, you're probably thinking to yourselves: "A self-insert in a series where foreknowledge gives you an upper hand? Especially in the family of a Lord Paramount? Psh, that's too OP, just tech-uplift, gain the right alliances, and use your superior knowledge on military tactics to win the Game of Thrones easily!" I suppose that's true to an extent, but there were two things preventing me from doing so.

First, the sexism within the world that I lived in. In the modern era, men and women were considered as equals in terms of decision-making, and both men and women had autonomy over themselves and their decisions. Unfortunately, I had been reincarnated into the body of a woman; more specifically, the daughter of a Lord Paramount in the South. In this life, at least, I was removed entirely of my bodily autonomy or any form of choice in the decisions made about me, as daughters of Lord Paramounts became bargaining chips for alliances. If Mace Tyrell wanted me to be married to Joffrey, or worse, Ramsay, there was nothing I could do about it, save for smiling and praying that I could either manipulate them, hoping that they were particularly just people, or even poisoning them and hoping I wouldn't be implicated. Lysa Arryn was demonized as an insane woman by most fans of the Series, but after being reincarnated in her position, I can understand her position in life a lot more now, married to a man her grandfather's age because of a youthful error, and forced to endure it. It didn't matter how kind Jon Arryn was, I would be terrified of living through a loveless marriage with an old man as well.

This, I suppose, extended to my father, Mace's, ambitions, as well. Father is a fairly accommodating man, but if he was convinced that joining House Lannister and Queenship was the best option, it really didn't matter what I could do other than accept it. In the series, She was saved through a combination of her own skills and grandmother's (otherwise known as Olenna Tyrell nee Redwyne, Queen of Thorns and all around general badass) intervention, but I wasn't exactly Her, so it would be a definite miracle if I managed to pull it off.

Second, was my lack of knowledge of modern society. Most people I remember reading about who had been inserted into characters had some level of knowledge on uplift technology (like gunpowder, or industrial-era machinery, or such), and had exploited that knowledge to become dangerous players in the game. Unfortunately for me, history was my worst subject, and so all of that potential knowledge was gone. The only things I really knew that could be applied to this world was the creation of the printing press, some bits of modern medicine (such as Pasteurization), and maybe some tidbits of agricultural knowledge that MIGHT help in gardening, rounded out with my modern perspective, which meant no absurdly overpowered armies stomping through Westeros. Besides, with dragons as a possibility, the armies of regions like the Reach means nothing, as dragon-fire would just mow down armies with impunity.

Foreknowledge did help resolve some of those issues, and I would know how to deal with certain issues in a way She didn't, like avoiding Cersei's games (alongside an extended stay in a Lannister-controlled King's Landing), having some level of defense against dragons or immediately bending the knee to House Targaryen, and having time to prepare to handle my ambitious father, so that I can get the best result possible. Either way, I'd have to make the right combination of moves to ensure that House Tyrell ended up as well as possible, especially if the War of the Five Kings and the Second Long Night were inevitable outcomes.

"-Margaery! Gods, girl, if you're going to be spacing out like that, at least conceal it first!" my grandmother chided.

"Ah- I...sorry, grandmother", I stammered, as my thoughts grounded to a halt. Grandmother looked at my guilty expression, and recognition flashed in her eyes.

"Well? You have something to ask me, don't you? Spit it out, little Rose," the Queen of Thorns stated bluntly.

"I-...do you think House Baratheon is stable? Compared to House Targaryen, I mean?" I asked, nervously.

The Queen of Thorns inclined her head in thought, quietly considering the best way to answer the question.

"Ah, yes…little rose, I'd say that the Stags are fairly stable. No madness from them yet, I suppose, so they'll probably be able to do what needs to be done. But to answer your true question, though…"

I paused in shock, as my grandmother stared at me in an evaluative manner. A second passed, maybe two, and the emotions on her face changed as she looked on in a glimmer of...approval? Pride? She disguised it quickly, though, and began to speak.

"Neither are particularly good options, I'll give you that. Tywin Lannister will eat the stags alive, and no true dragon currently exists to challenge the sheep. The best of a bad option, however, is better than none at all."

I nodded quietly, absorbing the information, as my suspicions were confirmed. It was clear that there was more that I needed to consider if I wanted to survive the hellscape of Westeros, but I had an inkling of a plan in place.

Olenna Tyrell smiled. "Smart rose. You'll need to learn to hide your reactions more quickly though. Go on, Margaery, Loras was making a racket earlier about playing with you."


	2. MARGAERY II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Margaery broods about her future, and contemplates her plan to survive the hellish landscape that is Westeros.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As much as our dearest SI Marge may make her plans, there's a very relevant saying that applies here: "No plan survives contact with an enemy." Even with her game plan laid bare, there are going to be a LOT of twists and turns in her future that will complicate things, even if she does get the man she marries.

**MARGAERY II**

"Margaery! We need to play! You've been reading for too long!" A voice called out.

I sighed, putting my book down, and stared into a pair of round, brown eyes, looking eagerly at me.

"Loras, I was just finishing this book. Give me a minute, please?" I chastised my slightly-older brother, while carefully rearranging my expression into something more annoyed looking.

"But Margie! You never play with me. You're gonna become as old and boring as Old Lomys and then you'll leave me alone!" Loras pouted, making his eyes even rounder, knowing that his kicked-puppy look would get me to give in.

"Loras!" I cried, and my eyes began to water in fake hurt. Loras, like everyone else, fell for the fake tears routine quite often, and I doubted that he'd be able to hold out for long.

"Margie! Don't cry!" his distress at my apparent tears showed, and he began to tear up himself in sympathy.

We stood there, with our faces almost exact mirrors of one another. I'm sure if Mother or Father came in and saw us like this, they'd acquiesce to whatever demands we made instantly.

"Now what has my two little roses staring at each other like that?" we heard, just as Loras was about to burst into actual tears.

"Willas!" we cried, and I ran towards him with my arms outstretched, an "OOMPH!" coming out of Willas as we tackled each of his respective legs in a hug, Loras following a second after me. We stared at him, two pairs of round, brown eyes, with eerily identical-looking faces, and Willa's face softened into a smile.

"Margie won't play with me, because she's reading her book and Gar's still stuck with Old Lomys right now and I couldn't find you-"

Willas laughed and ruffled Loras's hair, looking like the unconcerned, carefree boy he was at three-and-ten. My heart ached a bit at the thought of "Willas the Wilted" a year later, through no real fault of his own, and I once again promised myself that I would find a way to stop it.

"Margaery? What are your thoughts on this?" Willas asked.

"I'm almost done with this book. Mayhaps I will be able to join you and Loras in a minute, if you let me finish…" I trailed off.

"..and the Little Queen pricks her lords yet again!" Willas joked, poking fun at my serious demeanor, and my similar nature to grandmother. "We should leave, Loras, before her thorns grow and entangle us as well."

I giggled at Lora's mock-horrified expression, and detached myself from Willas as he grabbed Loras's hand. They proceeded to walk out, Loras's clumsy gait matching step with Willa's longer gait. Once they had disappeared from the study, I grabbed the book again - it was time to plan.

Westerosi history held some pretty interesting components, and if I wanted to survive Westeros, it would require me to read up some more accounts of Westerosi history directly from the source in order to make sure I would survive. In that way, I've been slowly using some historical and genealogical works in Highgarden's massive library to slowly piece together the context

House Tyrell held a pretty interesting position in the Seven Kingdoms. On one hand, we weren't dynastically tied to any of the other Great Houses, as our focus on internal consolidation within the Reach was really the first step to creating a dynasty. Particularly in the Reach, where politicking was key to consolidating your position, it wasn't like House Tyrell could command utter loyalty in their bannermen the way that House Stark did, for instance, as any Reacher House was almost constantly surrounded by rivals that were searching for a reason to oust your house and claim your position. Legitimacy and politics were the currency of Reach power, which is why, for instance, even if Bronn, in the Series, had managed to be given Highgarden, a lack of political acumen within a generation would have led to a series of succession crises that would have eventually ousted his House, ousted a bunch of other Houses, and led to an uncertain future until one house could stand above the rest. If House Tyrell wasn't careful, we would be ousted by the Baratheon-backed House Florent, which meant that we needed to plan our moves carefully, and not, for instance, support some rebel faction unless we were sure we would survive.

On the other hand, we weren't dynastically tied to any of the other Great Houses in recent history, meaning that we had the potential to tie ourselves to any of the Houses as we wished. Combine that with the greatest army in Westeros, and we were essentially the Seven Kingdom's greatest free-agent - if we allied with one cause, particularly in the upcoming War of the Five Kings, our forces would certainly pave the way towards victory, barring any supernatural circumstances or the flying WMDs that we call Daenerys's dragons. Garlan and Loras's marriages, particularly, would be in service of internal stability in Reach politics, but Willas and I's marriages would be two big chess moves that would allow our house to expand, and define the future of our house, essentially.

At first, when I had arrived in Westeros and had worked out who I was, I had dreamt up some ambitious marriage options. Maybe Jon Snow, provided he was the son of Rhaegar and Lyanna as per show canon, or Aegon VI, regardless of whether he was a Blackfyre or a Targaryen, and consolidate power as Queen with dragons to back our House up, but those plans quickly fell to the wayside as I contended with the possibility of opposing Daenerys. Daenerys Targaryen, the mother of THREE powerful dragons, the only guaranteed dragon rider in canon, one who would most certainly not be interested in a marriage with any man after her storyline played out other than possibly Jon Snow or a true Aegon VI.

To be married to any Targaryen other than Daenerys made your side one of her rivals, and if she brought those dragons to Westeros, that would mean imminent death and destruction of the house for anyone facing her. Even if you could poison Daenerys (and Seven help you if you were caught in the process), her death would spark a chain of destruction among whatever surviving dragons there would be, which essentially meant that it was impossible to defeat her unless technology uplift really did happen, something I knew for a fact I would not be able to do with my lack of knowledge.

As much as being Queen of the Seven Kingdoms would have been great for the ego and for House Tyrell during my lifetime, as long as Daenerys Targaryen existed, there would be no safe measure for me to take to truly claim the Seven Kingdoms as Queen without risking absolutely everything in the process. Father would have to be content with the reality that I would become Lady Paramount of a Great House instead, with the possibility of my children on the Iron Throne. Particularly with the Long Night in the works, it was important to play it safe to ensure that House Tyrell and I survived, and truly set down our roots, to become a dynasty lasting thousands and thousands of years.

Which Lord Paramounts to be, then, would be the best option? I couldn't marry Willas for obvious reasons - we're not Targaryens, it would be a waste of a perfectly good move, and did I mention that he was my BROTHER? Yuck.

House Baratheon and Lannister were equally unconscionable in the face of an almost assured Targaryen victory - any House that married or allied to either of the two Houses, mayhap save for Tyrion or Renly, would quickly become charred dragon food. Renly had no true claim compared to Stannis, and would not see much sense in bending the knee to House Targaryen. As Loras's potential future lover, being in between their dynamic in any way was a bad idea. I still wasn't sure if I wanted to interfere to prevent that, because even if Loras had loved Renly very much, my brother had faced much heartbreak in the Series as a result of it. Furthermore, Tyrion's storyline would not play out had he been reasonably married, most likely pushing him further and further into Casterly Rock, and especially not without the presence of House Tyrell in King's Landing on the side of House Lannister, as Joffrey would not have died of poison, and would unfortunately become dragon food regardless.

House Martell was unlikely, if only for the long enmity they held with House Tyrell, as well as the fact that I wouldn't stand to be a part of the ruling family with Arianne Martell as Lady Paramount of Dorne unless Viserys or Aegon somehow won the Iron Throne. Even then, if Aegon VI was a legitimate king, Doran Martell would have made moves to tie his daughter, Arianne, directly to Aegon VI, regardless of her wishes. This meant that there was no way House Tyrell could interfere save for tying Garlan to Arianne in a betrothal as recompense for Willas's broken leg in the near future, but my heart ached at the idea of accepting my bold, brave brother's fate as a cripple for the rest of his natural life. Furthermore, that would most likely be a sinking ship, considering that Garlan would suddenly be much more vulnerable to any number of Dornish poisons in the quest to place Arianne on the throne, which meant that House Martell was a no-go politically, and for the safety of my brothers in the future.

The last two Southern Great Houses on the list were not exactly ideal, either. House Arryn had a Lord Paramount that was too young and unstable, in the case of "Sweetrobin" Arryn, who could potentially be a bastard child of Petyr Baelish, and even if I married Harry the Heir, there was a 50/50 coin flip as to whether ruling the Eyrie would even happen to begin with, which really didn't boast anything attractive other than knights. House Tully was probably the best of the three matches, but even then, the Riverlands were almost consistently war torn and House Tully had about as much claim as we had to our respective regions (given that House Tully was only given Paramountcy by breaking away as vassals and supporting House Targaryen), which meant that there wasn't much point, if we wanted a match that would secure our dynasty for years and years on end.

I would not marry any lower of an option than the heir of a Great House, as the most attractive option physically and politically in that realm, save for another person inserted into the Series who could turn their fortunes around very quickly as the heir of a lesser house. Even then, that would put me at a disadvantage, and in order to survive both the Long Night unfrozen, and Daenerys's conquest unburnt, I needed to become either the Lady of a Great House or Queen.

The only real option, if I wanted to not only survive, but thrive, in the world of Westeros, was to back House Stark by marrying Robb Stark. There were plenty of reasons for this pairing. Firstly, House Stark was, first of all, the longest reigning House within their region and had the oldest, most stable bloodline of all the Lord Paramounts. They were loved by their people, enough so that Sansa and Jon, in show canon, had mustered an army to retake Winterfell, at what would have been their death knell. Robb was also the safest option in the case of the Long Night - the Starks were famously prepared for Winters and would actively be involved with fighting the White Walkers, something that House Tyrell and the Reach could easily help with. Interestingly enough, Robb was also the only option where Queenship was still a possibility, save for a male Targaryens gaining dragons before Daenerys, as the secession of the North would mean that there would need to be a Queen of the North, a role that would be possible if Daenerys ceded the North to House Stark.

Even before the War of the Five Kings, Robb was also an attractive option - placing us solidly within the Stark-Tully-Arryn-Baratheon alliance, and giving the illusion of the most attractive match for a child of Sansa, a Stark and Tully, and with her Baratheon/Lannister King, an almost certain betrothal with Robert Baratheon's fondness of Lyanna Stark and Tywin Lannister's need for a consolidated alliance. During the War of the Five Kings, Robb was an option that could have beat Tywin Lannister, so long as he married correctly, had decent political acumen in Southern politics, and had the army to do it. If there was anything I or House Tyrell provided, it was an army, and an attractive match. It was less attractive than the possibility of me betrothed to Joffrey, but with my foreknowledge, I knew it was the only move possible to avoid death by dragon fire and have some agency in the grand scheme of Westeros.

There were, of course, a few major obstacles to the plan. Firstly, I would have to convince Father and Grandmother that it was a good idea. Father wanted primarily to make me Queen, an option that would look likely before the War of the Five Kings, and Robb was not that, and without any context, Grandmother would be wary, and I wasn't sure if I was ready to confess my knowledge to the Queen of Thorns without sounding mad. Secondly, I was unsure how House Stark would look upon that match, considering that Ned Stark may look toward internal marriages for his children to stabilize the region, and with Sansa almost certainly betrothed to Joffrey pre-Series, another Southern lady married to Robb would not be a good idea, unless said Southern lady made the cost "worth it" for Northern households in food, or other goods with her dowry. Finally, Robb himself would need to be charmed enough so that he didn't fall in love with another woman, like Jeyne Westerling, or at the very least, find a way to keep him honor-bound to me, which meant that I would have to keep him interested and on the right track. All of those possibilities were daunting, particularly because I would have to learn how to become a Northern lady as well as a Southern lady, but they were necessary moves in this Game of Thrones.

With that thought, I closed my book and headed down to join my brothers, who were probably out playing somewhere. Highgarden as a castle was certainly pretty large, but with guards stationed at many points around the castle, the risk was pretty negligible. I walked around Highgarden, letting my feet instinctively take me to where I knew my erstwhile brothers would be.

"My lady, would you, mayhaps, be in need of an escort?" someone whispered in my ear. I turned around warily, only to hear the word "BOO!", to which I jumped back and shrieked loudly. Garlan the Gallant, my, loveable, boneheaded, IDIOT brother stood there laughing at me, after giving me the fright of my life, so I did the only reasonable thing I could do in that situation - I slapped his arm ineffectually and then pouted - which made Garlan laugh even harder.

"Gar! You scared me!" I grumbled.

"Sweet sister, you looked so serious there - I thought you had suddenly become grandmother for a second!" Garlan joked. "Let's go find Willas and Loras."

I grinned at him, interlocking my arm with his, and he led us to the tree all four of us usually hung out at.

"So Gar, how was Old Lomys? Did you learn anything interesting?" I asked him, as we walked together, arm in arm.

"Old Lomys somehow turns the most interesting subjects boring," my brother of one-and-ten grumbled. "Battles should be interesting, but all of his lecturing about weather conditions nearly put me to sleep a few times. I know that weather is important, and that I ought to be aware as a commander, but I'd rather swing my sword at the training field and practice."

"But Gar, how are you going to lead Willas's army with that mindset?" I asked. Garlan paused and raised an eyebrow at me, a hint of mischief in his eyes.

"You mean, your armies, Marge?" Garlan pointed out, smirking. "You'll be Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, after all."

I grimaced internally at the joke, but tried not to let it show on my face. Queenship was well and good, but if my brothers kept that notion any longer, it wouldn't be long before I was shipped off to Renly.

"I mean, yes, but what about internal disputes? It's not like the queen can exactly interfere every time and-", my response cut off as I noticed something dangerous. "Gar, don't you dare pick me u-AAHH!"

Garlan placed me atop his shoulders in a piggyback as I shrieked, and apparently, my brother's lessons had been working out, because he managed to hold me easily. Then again, I was only five, so I suppose I was just tiny.

"You and Willas are too similar," Garlan mock-lamented. "Sitting with Old Lomys for moons on end and thinking too deeply….is it a wonder that your other brothers need to distract you from your work? I'll have to escort Her Grace to get some sunlight, lest she wilts in the dark."

I grumbled a bit, but Garlan knew I secretly enjoyed it, so he proceeded to run with me on his shoulders, and my shrieks and his laughs together brightened up the whole of Highgarden, as we headed out to sunlight, and to Loras and Willas.


	3. MARGAERY III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Margaery discusses her worries with her loving mother, and sets the stage with the oldest and greatest weapon the Westerosi use...plain old manipulation. Will it work? Only time will tell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been on a bit of a writing spree - so let me know what you think! This chapter adds a little bit of a worldbuilding on a very interesting subject. Alerie Tyrell is the younger daughter of Leyton Hightower, yet she marries Mace Tyrell instead of her older sister, Malora, who seems like she would be closer in age to Mace? That, and the strange dislike Olenna has of Alerie (or at least uses her thorns on her), and I had to theorize a bit.

**MARGAERY III**

"-Tourney! Marge, a real tourney! And there'll be lists! And Willas said he was going to put his names on the lists, and, and father was so excited-" my older (younger) brother of seven, almost eight, namedays excitedly babbled.

I tuned out most of Loras's excited babblings, as we walked around the garden. As much as I loved my brother, this umpteenth repeat of his exultations have gone on all morning, and it was stressful thinking about the Tourney. The Tourney of backstory fame, where Willas meets Oberyn, goes up against him, and cripples himself in the process. This was such a powder keg politically and health-wise, as Willas's fate was almost totally determined by how well this tourney goes.

If I warned him and he didn't participate, the Westerosi butterfly effect could sweep in and give him an even worse injury later, or he could enter a battle that would kill him - a "cripple", at least by Westerosi standards, wouldn't have to go out on the battlefield, and Seven knows there were no shortages of battles in the future, which might be a safer option for him. Of course, if the battle got too close to Highgarden, he would be defenseless, but at least he wouldn't be leading suicidal charges down a battlefield.

However, if I didn't warn my older brother, he'd be in constant pain his entire life or the Tourney could be WORSE because of my presence or some change I had randomly created. Would I be a terrible sister if I intentionally let him cripple himself, or worse? Not only that, his marriage prospects would be ruined, he would be known as "Willas the Wilted" after the very deep depression he would fall into, and his chances of finding a loving partner, after contending with whatever ableism Westeros has, would be lessened. This tourney - the first tourney that had been held in Highgarden since my birth, as the last Tyrell child, and as a part of the recovering Westerosi economy as a result of Robert's Rebellion - filled me with dread, and I tried to hide it as best as I could.

"-Gar said that there would be Dornish people there!" he finished as we joined the rest of the family.

"That's right, little rose, and the Red Viper among them, or so grandmother says", Garlan piped cheerfully from behind us. "Though, I'm not sure how much of it was her exaggerating and how much of it was true. You know how she loves to scare us with stories about the Dornish!"

"Garlan, dear, that's a bit unbecoming of you!" Mother chided us. "Your grandmother does not mean to scare you with those stories - those are just stories, and your grandmother is a very realistic woman, who does like to tell stories, I will say…" she muttered.

Maybe I could have a little fun with this. I shot my brothers a conspiratorial look.

"Oh mother, Grandmama was telling me the other day about all the different Dornish poisons that they use. It was really scary to hear about, and she said-" I chirped.

"-that there was one that made people's eyes bulge out and turn red! And they go purple and start choking and die!" Loras finished.

"Mother, you must know that she told Willas and I stories about that one poison that causes you to uncontrollably retch until your insides are on your outsides when we were younger. Gave me nightmares for weeks!" Garlan added cheekily, winking at us when Mother wasn't looking.

We were all lying, of course, as our dear grandmother would have never done that, but it was funny. I will have to say though, I'll have to commend Loras on remembering the details of the poison I had told him about last week under the guise of an "interesting new book". Clever boy, my older brother was. Mother turned a little green at the thought.

"That- That woman!" Mother sputtered, which caused the three of us to burst into laughter (or giggles, in my case). Mother sighed, knowing she had been had. "Must you give your lady mother a fright like that?"

Her eyes softened. "Now, Garlan, I know you have training with the master-at-arms, and Loras, shouldn't you be with Maester Lomys for your lessons?" Mother asked my brothers, who looked guiltily at her. "Now, off with you two miscreants. Margaery, you'll stay with me."

Garlan and Loras fled to their stations, but not before I hugged Garlan and kissed Loras on the cheek. I watched them leave and grabbed my mother's hand, as we walked around the garden, stopping at a bench to take a little rest.

"Are you excited about the tourney, Margaery?" Mother asked. "It'll be your first time seeing the jousts!" She paused for a bit, taking a closer look at me. "You have been awfully quiet about the tournament, sweetling, and it is somewhat unlike you."

"Mother, I-" I paused, not sure what to say. Alerie Tyrell wasn't the smartest Tyrell out of all of them, but she was no fool. She was also my mother as well, which definitely counted for something, but if I just flat out explained my worry for Willas, that might demoralize my older brother or make me sound like a madwoman. Maybe I could deflect my current worry by talking about another worry on my mind.

"I was thinking - about the Northern tales I've been reading lately, you see?" Mother nodded along - it was very common knowledge amongst Highgarden that I was a child that loved reading and learning, but particularly anything I could get my hands on about the North. "I love learning about the snow, because we don't get any, and the tales of Winterfell and House Stark, the Wall, and the North! By the Seven, they're so fascinating. But-"

"But-?" Mother questioned, hesitantly. Checkmate.

I looked at her quietly and vulnerably, my brown eyes pooling with tears. "Mother, Winterfell is so far away, and I want to learn more! But with this tourney, and everyone talking about knights, and the Martells, and being Queen on the Iron Throne, I'm not sure I'll be able to." A single tear dripped down my cheek. "And I know that the Maiden says that we shouldn't be greedy, and that I have a duty as a lady, but if I become a Queen-"

"Oh sweetling, come here," Mother whispered softly, taking me into her arms as my pent-up emotions actually spilled out. I really didn't mean to actually cry here, but all of the stress of the tourney, the old fears of marriage, and the newer fears of my game plan not going along well seemed to have unlocked something deep in my heart. For all of her ladylike disposition, let it be known that Alerie Tyrell was a mother through and through, and always willing to offer comfort for her children.

"You know that your Father and I would never force you to do anything you didn't want to. I know your father and brothers jape to you about being Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, but nothing is set in stone, my sweetling," Mother answered gently, holding me in her arms. "Why, you are a young lady of only six namedays, and here you are, worrying about your marriage prospects! There is plenty of time for you, my sweetling, and if you'd like to learn more about the North, of course you can learn more about the North. Can I tell you a secret, sweetling? Just between mother and daughter?"

I moved out of the hug and looked at her quietly, wiping some tears in the process.

"Ladies in our position, your grandmother, you, and I, we make the best of what we have behind the scenes", she explained. "Oh yes, the men will talk and command, but we find our ways to get what we want in the end. Your father, and I, for instance. Did you know, little Rose, that your father and I were not originally betrothed, and that he, in fact, was betrothed to your aunt Malora?"

Wow, Westeros. Talk about a surprising reveal. I mean, I guess it made sense, since she was older than Alerie, and the Series hadn't exactly gone in-depth about Mace and Alerie, but wow, what a strange thing to hear. Evidently, the surprise had shown on my face, and my mother smiled at me before continuing.

"Yes, sweetling, your aunt Malora and your father! What a shame it was, for she had no desire to be married, preferring to read in her tower. I, however, was inconsolable! For her to be married to the handsome lord of the Reach, and not even want it, and for me to waste my day away, married to a second or third son in a tower somewhere. But I knew I wanted to marry your father, and I knew your aunt did not want to spend her time with a husband, so we plotted and plotted, as sisters often do." Mother smiled, her eyes lost in a nostalgia long ago. "Eventually, though, we decided on a plan - I would charm your father, and take your aunt's place as Lady Tyrell, and she, free to read her books and learn as much as she wanted, as a maid."

I looked quizzically at her. "But Mother, how would that work? Wouldn't Grandfather have been furious?"

Mother nodded. "It was decided that I would spend time with your father after your aunt 'conveniently disappeared' - off to read an interesting tale - and I, there at the right moments, and soon enough, we fell in love. Your grandfather eventually found out, once your father-" Mother's face suddenly colored. "Erm- anyways…."

Ah, grandfather must have caught them in bed together - it would have been the only option conceivably strong enough for Grandfather to be forced to sever the betrothal, and lead to a scandal if unchecked. The right betrothal but the wrong Hightower - no wonder it worked. Interestingly enough, this seemed to parallel Grandmother and Grandfather, and would explain Grandmother's distaste for Mother, which showed even now - not only would she be suspicious of someone's intentions on her loving son, but for her son to be seduced away the same way? History repeated itself for sure, there. Not exactly something you tell your six year old daughter though, that's for sure.

"Well….your grandfather found out one day, and was furious, changing the betrothal, but the die had already been cast. Your aunt Malora and I made our choices, and both of us are happier because of it. She wanted a peaceful life reading and learning, and I wanted life as a Lady of Highgarden with the man I love." Mother wrapped up her story.

"So you see, sweetling, even within our position, we women can decide from behind the scenes as well. Your grandmother took her fate into her own hands, and I know, sweetling, that one day, you will be able to choose your own fate", Mother comforted. "I know you are a very wise young lady, but you will never face this alone. Do not hold the world on your shoulders, my love."

I did the only reasonable thing I could do in this situation - I hugged her as tightly as I could, like the child I was. It was comforting, a hug that seemed to last forever. Eventually, I mustered the courage to speak.

"So if I wanted to learn more about the North or go to Winterfell, you would help, Mother?" I asked, hesitantly. "I'd love to write a penpal about the North, and all the better if it were a nice highborn lady or, uhm, a highborn, uh-" I blushed lightly, thinking about Robb Stark. Thank the Seven I was attracted to men, or this marriage plan and "inserting as a girl" would be a lot harder.

My mother's eyes brightened, obviously thinking about marriage prospects. Alerie Tyrell, though a doting mother, was still a canny player, and the son of a Lord Paramount was a perfectly respectable match that would make her daughter happy. Particularly as her daughter had noted that she did not want to be Queen, and loved the North, she naturally followed the breadcrumbs to their natural endpoint, and was satisfied with it.

"Oh, my little rose, that's a wonderful idea! I'll talk to your father later and arrange for some letters to be exchanged. The Starks have a son your age - the heir of Winterfell, a perfectly respectable person to exchange letters with, and I'm sure with his Tully mother, she'd be willing to do so…" Mother rambled enthusiastically. "Now come, sweetling, let us forget this business and eat some cheesecake from the kitchen - your grandmother and Willas can join us as well!"

I grinned. If mother and I worked together, we would convince Father and Grandmother, and so the die was cast. I was already thinking about what I would write to Robb in his first letter. Would signing my name off as "The Future Margaery Stark" be too soon?


	4. MARGAERY IV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Margaery does her best to deal with Willas's tourney....and all of its outcomes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my fourth chapter, but let me know if the pacing needs to speed up or slow down. I hope I'm coming at this pacing fairly consistently, as we are going to handle the Tourney in a single chapter. Let's see how this goes.

**MARGAERY IV**

The roar of the crowd was deafening, even in the enclosed space, sometimes rising in pitch, or lowering in pitch, depending on the events occurring outside. The smell of Red Arbor wine and food wafted its way around the tournament, from the frankly ridiculous amount of consumption. The sigiled tents were in full display, with most Reacher houses, some Dornish houses, and a few minor Westerlands houses and Stormlands houses. The tourney at Highgarden was at its full swing, at the peak of the tournament, with the jousting lists and tilts dazzling the crowd.

All of this should have excited any child of seven namedays. As a matter of fact, Loras was outside with Gar right now, shouting and laughing in joy as dreams of becoming a tourney knight filled his heart, and I knew my entourage of cousins and future ladies-in-waiting - Desmera Redwyne, Megga and Elinor Tyrell, and Talla Tarly - were all giggling and cheering. All of that faded though, in comparison to my worry about one very specific jouster, despite all of my protests, pleas, and attempts at manipulation. My brother, who looked expectantly at me, as I proceeded to prattle my umpteenth worry at him.

"Willas, you remember what I told you, right? You have to-" I started.

"-check and recheck the stirrups on both sides to make sure that your foot is not stuck in it before every tilt, so that you can escape if something goes wrong, I know." Willas recited half-heartedly. "Really, with the way you're going on and on about this, I feel sorry for the poor sod who will have to marry you, little Rose, you're worse than grandmother is sometimes."

Mother fluttered around nervously, both in an attempt to see her son, and also, as my escort. "Oh Willas, are you sure about this? I know your father wants to get you started in the tiltyard early but you really don't have to, you know…"

I made my lips quiver and wobble and positioned my eyes to look like I was tearing up, partially out of very real nervousness, but also because I knew he was very susceptible to that sort of thing. Willas made the mistake of looking at me, and then looked away as he saw what he assumed to be another sobbing fit. He sighed, and opened his arms.

Even though my brother was maybe a head or two taller than me, and in a jouster's armor, I almost tackled him in my hug, feeling the steel and chainmail on his person. Willas looked at me, and he softened.

"Marge, I know you're worried - Seven help me, I'm worried too - but I will be fine, you know that. I can't crown you Queen of Love and Beauty if you don't let me go now, you know that," Willas murmured reassuringly, in an attempt to comfort me.

Really, Willas, famous last words there. Of course, with adolescence (as my four-and-ten namedays brother would attempt to deny), came a bit of recklessness, but at least he tried his best to listen. Willas saw the look on my face, released me, and cleared his throat mock-grandly.

"Now, sweet sister," Willas spoke jovially, in a clear attempt to cheer me up. "Will you do me the great honor of wearing your favor during my joust, to bestow your beauty and luck upon me?"

I couldn't help but giggle at my brother - really, with his silver tongue, he'll be the envy of Reach maidens everywhere - and smiled, looking expectantly at my mother.

My mother pulled out a very small dagger from one of her sleeves. All Noble ladies in the South knew they needed an implement to protect themselves at all times, and I knew she would not let her seven namedays daughter near any kind of sharp tool. Mother efficiently grasped onto the edges of my latest dress, made with a pretty green silk and embroidered with very original - you guessed it - red roses, and efficiently cut a strip of fabric to hand to me. She put the dagger away, then went to Willas, whispering a few words to him, and kissed his forehead.

Not to be outdone, I grabbed the fabric, kissed it showily (which extracted a small laugh from Willas), and proceeded to tie the fabric around his arm quickly and efficiently - secure, but not too tight. One promise I made sure to extract from him is that he would be wearing my favor - I didn't want to deal with any overambitious ladies grasping a claw into my brother as a ticket to being a future Lady of Highgarden - and also because I was a spoiled younger sister who got anything she wanted. Willas smiled as the last knot was secure, as he leaned down for me to kiss his cheek.

"Go show them, brother, that we are Growing Strong," I said firmly, as he proceeded to walk outside with us, climbing atop his destrier. I don't know what kind of luck my poor brother had, going up against the Red Viper in near-the-first-round, but I shoved away that thought for now. "I know you can do this."

My mother teared up, as I grabbed her hand, with her escorting me out to the family box, where Father, Gar, Loras, and Grandmother was. Staring at all of the destriers on horses, the knight tents, and so on, seemed like a particularly vibrant Renaissance festival, and a reminder that Westeros was really in a magic-infused medieval era. It would be a long way towards building a democracy, in the far, far future. After a few minutes of walking, we arrived at the spectator seats. Mother went on to sit with Father, his face beaming up after seeing his beautiful lady wife, and I went to sit by Grandmother, and my little entourage.

An entourage of ladies was an interesting thing - even at a young age, young maidens of the Reach were encouraged to position themselves for those placements, as the bannerman of the Lord Paramount jockeyed for political capital within the reach. Desmera, Elinor, and Megga were all to be expected - they were directly family, and Aunt Mina and her Lord Husband were in the stands with us, as well as Aunt Janna and Her Lord Husband. Talla Tarly was there to appease her father, the foremost general of the Reach, and a few other young noble ladies were there as well, the clear victors of the jockeying. Of course, I still had to keep my guard up around my ladies, since you never really knew who was listening, but they were all fairly decent friends - well, as friendly as little girls can be.

"Sorry I'm late, girls," I said, when I reentered the stands. "I wanted to see some of the knights, and my lady mother could NOT help but escort me, you see-", which caused all four of us to burst out into giggles.

"You missed a few of the jousts though." Elinor noted cheerily. "They were so interesting, they were like-"

Elinor attempted to gesture and describe a few of the jousts, with Megga and Desmera nodding emphatically along. I plastered a smile as I began tuning them out, anxious about the outcome of this joust. Evidently, grandmother had noticed, because she looked at us, and opened her mouth.

"...Bah, you see one joust, you see them all!" Grandmother interjected in exasperation. "Really, if men spent the same amount of time fixing the realm as they did playing pretend at this silly little tourneys, the Realm would be far better off for it."

That broke me out of my stupor, causing me to giggle. Ah, the Queen of Thorns strikes again with her witty barbs. I hope Elinor doesn't cry because of it though.

"-look, there he is!" Loras shouted excitedly, for all of us to hear. "There's Willas! That's my brother!"

Loras was correct - my brother, holding my favor, waved and smiled at the audience as he commanded his horse to the Lord's box, where our family was sitting. His golden-brownish hair shone in the sunlight, and he looked to be the perfect picture of a dashing heir, waiting for his joust, for his queen of love and beauty, and life in his eyes, no doubt preparing to soak in the adulations of the crowd.

"Oh, he's so handsome!" Talla Tarly gushed quietly. "Mayhaps I could be the Jonquil to his Florian. We would be so happy together." Okay, first of all, ew, that's my brother. Also, you are eight namedays old, to his four-and-ten, that's also weird, Talla, stop ogling my brother. I looked at her suspiciously for a moment, before turning to the tilt; this demanded my full attention.

"Margaery, look, there's the Red Viper!" Megga crowed out enthusiastically. Oberyn approached the Lord's Box with a smug smirk on his face. Willas and Oberyn turned to one another, and then proceeded to command their horses to their end of the tiltyard. Willas, as promised, quickly checked his stirrups by pushing his feet out of the stirrup and putting his feet in, stopping when he was satisfied. Oh no. This was getting far too real for me. I couldn't bear to watch my brother get injured in real time. I prayed to the Mother, the Maiden, the Warrior, the Father, the Old Gods, anyone, that I would not have to watch my brother injured the same way or killed because of my intervention.

"Grandmother-" I said weakly.

"Oh Margaery, settle down," Grandmother answered. "Willas will be fine."

Willas and Oberyn both put on their helms, preparing for the joust, as I heard the sound of bets being called and excitement, at probably the most significant joust, politically, in this tourney. By the Seven, this was really happening. Their men handed them their lance, and their shield, with Willas's shield depicting the famed golden rose of House Tyrell, and Oberyn's shield depicting the sun of House Martell. They put it on, and I saw my favor prominently appearing on his arm, near the lance. I leaned into my grandmother, so scared and worried I was. Olenna Tyrell didn't pull away, knowing that her granddaughter needed comfort in that moment, and I appreciated it.

A second. Two. Maybe a few. I dunno. After an infinite amount of time, yet before I knew it, the horns blared, signaling for the competitors to start. The world blurred out - the only thing I cared about in this moment was Willas.

They ran, and ran and ran, their lances outstretched.

A *CLANG* - as their jousting lances collided with the other's shield, both lances breaking, nobody falling.

To the other side, then. They prepared themselves for the next bout, retrieving another lance. A second beat. Willas looked noticeably more confident, and Oberyn was smirking, clearly thinking of congratulating his young opponent after he lost. The horns blared again.

They ran, their eyes focused on the shield. On and on and on and on, and another *CLANG* as they collided into one another. Oberyn had put more force into his spear, and it collided with Willas's shield in a way where it broke the shield. My brother's horse, unable to balance his shifting weight, began to fall.

Falling, and falling and falling. Willas fell, his foot moving out of the stirrup, and the horse fell aside from him, laying on the ground, before slowly rising up. A beat, and another beat. Then, arise. Willas moved up, his leg and body safe. Oberyn paused at the end, the horns declaring a winner, and proceeded to dismount to help his competitor up and congratulate him on a job well done, but there was something wrong.

A gasp rose out of the crowd, as we saw the problem, and a hushed whisper fell upon the crowd.

Willas held onto his wrist, as he screamed and screamed in pain. Screaming, and crying, his wrist not bleeding, but his hand twisted at a very unnatural angle, and his wrist clearly broken. Oberyn came over, and attempted to help him up, but with my brother (only four-and-ten, fourteen years old and screaming and crying like this), was unable to move, with his nerves on fire, and so Oberyn quickly dismounted him of his armor and dropping it on the ground before carrying him, bridal-style towards the infirmary.

A piercing shriek hit the ears of the crowd, one that screamed of anguish and fear. God, it was annoying - who would dare to shriek at a time like this? It was so loud and so filled with heartbreak that I couldn't bear to hear it any more, but I didn't know where it came from, or how to make it stop. Loras approached me, enfolding me in a hug, and the shriek suddenly seemed a little more muffled, though it still assaulted my ears.

The "Twin Roses". The "Terrible Tyrell Two" (and I had laughed at that, even.) So many derivatives of the name they called us, despite our one name day age difference. It was too easy for us to be confused for twins. But there, in that singular moment, in that single point of time, never in my life had I felt closer to my brother than this. My brave, strong Loras, a constant I wouldn't be able to part from. He held onto me tightly, tears landing on my shoulder and in my hair, and we held onto each other, not wanting to let go.

As blackness slowly approached my vision. I realized that the shrieking had come from me. I gratefully floated into the darkness, mercifully knowing no more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As much as Marge had a plan, Westeros had another one coming. You can prevent a leg injury, yes, but tourneys are dangerous things, and throwing fourteen year olds into life-threatening competitions, even more so. Hope you don't mind the twist!


	5. INTERLUDE: Olenna, Mace, & Alerie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mace, Alerie, and Olenna deal with the fallout of Willas's injury in their own way, and consider the future of their house, as well as a very interesting offer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thankfully, because I'm on Winter Break, I have a bit of time to post all of these chapters. Willas's injury is interesting in the sense that it gives a lot of room for adjustment, yet is still debilitating in its own way. Now, we watch the masters play the game. let me know what you think!

**INTERLUDE: Olenna, Mace, & Alerie**

On any given day, the Lord of Highgarden would work merrily in his solar, and his father's solar, and his grandfather's solar before that, but today was not that day. Tragedy had struck the Tyrell family today, and Mace Tyrell was not merry on this very day. He worked quietly, anything to get his mind off of what was going on inside of the infirmary. A family meeting was to occur today, and he needed some time dealing with his work before feeling ready to participate. Mace lost himself in that work for a few hours, so mired in his grief was he that a smile did not even appear on his face.

After a while, the doors opened, and Mace stiffened, before visibly relaxing, as his beautiful wife approached him, her eyes still red-rimmed and her hair in a bit of a mess. She approached his chair, and he proceeded to stand up, and they embraced, his head on her shoulder, and her head, by his beating heart.

"Oh Alerie, our poor boy," Mace lamented softly. "Entering our boy in that tourney...why did I think it was a good idea?"

Mace felt the embrace strengthen, and just held his wife in that moment, as they faced the oncoming storm together. After a long moment, Mace paused. "How are they?" he asked, his voice trembling a little.

Alerie sighed, and parts of Mace's shirts suddenly dampened. "I didn't want to leave," she started, in a very fragile voice. "Willas has been soothed by the Milk of the Poppy, and is asleep for now, but all of the children are distraught. Garlan and Loras have not left his bedside once, and Margaery woke up and proceeded to climb in bed next to Willas. She has not stopped sobbing since she had awoken."

Mace shuddered. Margaery had certainly taken it the worst - she had shrieked so loudly that everyone in the stands had heard, and proceeded to pass out in Loras's arm in sheer panic. His calm and collected little Queen reacting like that...well, he didn't like thinking about the implications. Mace almost didn't want to ask his next question.

"And….and the Maester?" Mace asked, weakly. "What did Lomys say, about his prognosis?"

Alerie's sobs suddenly increased to an almost-wail, as she proceeded to cry and cry on Mace's front. He repositioned his wife to a more comfortable position as she proceeded to sob on him, and he knew that what would be said next would be bad. The doors opened once more before closing, and his mother entered, but Olenna Tyrell said not one word, carefully checking for spies, before moving to a comfortable seat, not wanting to break this moment.

"He- he said-," Alerie started tremulously. "-that Willas's wrists broke something…"

She paused, taking a calming breath.  
"..something deeply within his arm. Every movement our poor- our poor boy makes, his arms shake." Alerie finished. "He'll never…" she started once more, before bursting into tears."Willas will never be able to hold a sword again."

Mace held onto his wife tightly, as they both cried quietly. Even the Queen of Thorns looked near-tears - her love for Willas so great. The family sat quietly together, reflecting on this disastrous turn of events, releasing their pent-up emotions until they calmed down.

A pause.

"Daughter," Olenna stated, quietly, perking up Alerie. "Can our boy still write?"

Alerie looked quietly at her. "I was told that he would be able to write, but not steadily, and his wrist would be bound by a bracelet for the rest of his days," she responded.

The Queen of Thorns sighed.

"Now, Mace, I shouldn't have to tell you that you've made a mess of it-", she stated, almost gently, "-but our boy still has hope."

Mace looked at his mother. She looked at him in an almost-gentle expression, before her eyes hardened.

"Willas can still read, can still think,and he can still function," Olenna noted. "As Lord of Highgarden, he need not go on the battlefield - Garlan can do that for him, but our boy is relatively the same. He shakes, but his faculties are still intact, are they not? Seven knows many a lord without that small mercy." she finished, sardonically.

Alerie's eyes brightened, and Mace laughed a bit, at his mother's prickly nature, not once turned onto him. "That's right, mother!" Alerie replied excitedly, "Willas can have someone else write and help him with everything!"

"Don't call me mother - I would have known if I had birthed you." The Queen of Thorns snapped, causing Mace and Alerie to burst out into hearty laughter, as normalcy re-established itself.

"Who would be the best to help Willas? The Maester?" Mace questioned out loud.

"Gods, boy, the Maester?" Olenna asked. "No, Willas needs a page - a particularly studious page who would be able to help Willas with his more academic pursuits"

Alerie nodded. "Do you have any in mind? I'm sure I could ask some of my Hightower cousins…" Alerie started, only to be given a glare by the Queen of Thorns.

"I think not." Olenna responded. "This must be an honor we are rewarding to one of our bannerman, to improve stability, not some frivolous exercise in nepotism. Fortunately I have the perfect page in mind."

"Do tell, mother, I haven't the faintest idea of who to appoint." Mace said.

"Samwell Tarly, the heir to Horn Hill and son of Randyll Tarly," she began, with Mace and Alerie nodding in recognition. "Paxter and Mina had originally planned to foster him, but I talked to them and talked to Tarly to make that switch. It will be a reward for his leal service, and the boy has a very studious nature."

Mace nodded thoughtfully. "With Samwell and Talla both in service of Highgarden, Tarly will be hard-pressed to deny us anything, then." He noted.

"What of the Martells?" Alerie asked, hesitantly. "Surely there must be some recompense."

Mace nodded, and began to explain. "It was clear that Willa's injury was an accident, yet a dangerous one for Dorne and for the Reach.. I sent a raven to Doran Martell, with plans for recompense. The one most strongly agreed upon in this moment was a betrothal to Arianne Martell."

"That snake?" Olenna asked, incredulously. "Surely we have better options than her as a Lady of Highgarden."

Mace looked at his wife and his mother guiltily.

"No, mother, I mean for Willas to become Prince Consort to Arianne, and for Garlan to take up Highgarden in his place." Mace explained.

"Mace! Are you so foolish as to hand away your eldest son's birthright because of an injury?" Olenna barked, angrily. Alerie looked at the ground between this debate of mother and son.

"Mother, I-" Mace started to respond, before Olenna shouted him down. "Mace, this is as foolish as your idea to put Margaery on the throne!"

"But mother, I-"

"Have you even once begun to consider the implications of this? Willas may not even survive his wedding night, thrown to the Vipers, for what of the enmity between our house and theirs - does that resolve itself before then? Garlan has not had any lessons on heirship, and your boy will see it for the insult it is! Your lords will begin to talk about the fat, ambitious flower, and resentment will build. Before we know it, we'll have an army of our own bannermen storming Highgarden-"

"Mother." Mace interrupted.

"You dare to interrupt your own mother, boy?" the Queen of Thorns asked, dangerously.

"I am Lord of Highgarden, am I not?" Mace answered, placidly. "Our house words are 'Growing Strong' as well, are they not?"

Olenna narrowed her eyes, as Alerie watched the standoff, terrified.

"Mother, it is not a particularly bad idea. Dorne and the Reach stood on the same side against the Usurper, and as of late, House Martell seeks to makes amends with House Tyrell. If we are to grow strong, we must strengthen our roots."

Olenna stared at her son, but her son's sudden strength made her relent.

"You do not have the wrong of it, my son," Olenna answered, with a hint of pride in her voice. "It is a very ambitious move, and we will have to take certain precautions to protect Willas, but it is a smart move to make if executed correctly. Now, have you considered the implications of what that means for Garlan, Loras, and Margaery?"

"Loras will need a betrothal immediately. Mina's children will have to follow suit, to shore up our support, and Garlan's betrothal will thus be a bargaining chip if discontent is likely." Mace answered.

Olenna nodded.

"Lord Rowan has three daughters, I believe, and with two Tarly children here, a betrothal need not be made right away, though Garlan or Loras may be a good match for Talla Tarly. House Florent will not budge, and our cadet branch will also need to be utilized as well." Mace noted.

"Good, send the Ravens then." the Queen of Thorns noted. "Now, is there anything else we need to talk about?"

Alerie paused.

"Husband, Mother.." Alerie began. "Margaery has told me that she does not want to become Queen, or stay South. Instead she would like to begin exchanging letters with a Northern noble."

"That girl," Olenna grumbled. "She always seems like she has her own plans in place."

Mace was shocked. "But...I thought she had always wanted to become Queen? Our Margaery would be the best match for Robert Baratheon's son, and particularly the Reach. Why wouldn't she want to become Queen?"

Olenna looked sharply at her son and good-daughter.

"Mace, you must know that I have never liked the plan of betrothing Margaery to a Baratheon. The Usurper had just claimed his throne, and time will tell how likely that is to stay. Even if we were to ask, it is not like that Robert Baratheon would accept, anyways - the fool will tie his Joffrey to one of Ned Stark's daughters to keep his alliance and reward House Stark." Olenna explained.

"But Baratheon needs the Reach!" Mace spluttered, throwing his hands up in the air. "He would be a fool to deny Highgarden!"

"Robert Baratheon has the Reach well in hand, Mace, or did you forget House Florent?" Olenna retorted sharply. "Those upjumped foxes want their grandson ruling Highgarden, and one misstep could leave us out of home and their get ruling over the Reach. Stannis Baratheon hates us enough as is, he is itching for an excuse to put our heads on a spike after what you did to him, Mace. No, I will not subject my grandchildren or great-grandchildren to that."

Mace sighed at that, knowing he had been beaten. "But what of Margaery? She deserves more than a marriage to a bannerman - she should be a Lady Paramount, at least."

"What of House Stark?" Alerie noted. "Eddard Stark's children are closely tied enough to House Baratheon that Margaery could bargain for a match with either her, or Garlan's children in the future, with the children of Baratheon. Margaery also enjoys learning about the North."

Olenna looked thoughtful. "I suspect that it is the plan our rose has in place. With her influence over Robb Stark, she would have influence over his sister and her husband, and with her ties of Willas and Garlan, our plans would not be ignored. House Stark also has strong legitimacy, and I do not believe we have married once into that family. Clever, yet still missing quite a few components, but that is to be expected of our growing rose."

"Margaery could marry into House Lannister as well", Mace pointed out. "The Westerlands would be a firm shot at influencing the king, and her husband could be Hand."

Olenna glared at her son. "You'd be handing the executioner's block directly to Tywin Lannister at that point. Seven knows he wants his get to rule over all Seven Kingdoms, and it wouldn't be long until an accident befell your sons."

Olenna stood up and paced around, her cane making a CLICK-CLACK noise, before she paused.

"It is not a bad idea. House Stark is among the most honorable of the Great Houses, and Margaery's husband would almost certainly side with House Tyrell in any conflict, with the powers of Lord of Winterfell. They have a fair few resources that we may need, and it would strengthen our roots and branches enough for a crowning power play in the next few generations."

Mace looked quietly, clearly thinking about his dreams of making Margaery queen, but after a while, he acquiesced.

"What must be done?" Mace asked.

"Send a letter to Ned Stark asking for a correspondence with Robb Stark," Alerie noted. "Catelyn Tully would love a Southern match for her children, but Margaery will have to charm Robb Stark in order for Ned Stark to request a betrothal. That is the best of the moves we could make as of now."

By the end of the night, two black ravens flew with letters in their talons, headed in opposite directions.


	6. MARGAERY V

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for all of the compliments and critiques about this fic! It's my first fic, and it's my baby, so it's amazing to see my idea come to life and for people to enjoy it so much. I'm glad that you all are enjoying the political moves made, and I've added some obligatory stuff to advance the plot and keep things moving, as well as some family fluff. This is Westeros, after all, and the happiness always comes before the tragedy and fall that will soon follow. Hope you enjoy this new chapter - let me know what you think!

**MARGAERY V**

To be honest, I don't remember much of the first week after Willas's injury, other than a lot of crying, panicking, and staying near my brother almost 24/7, save for the mandatory points where I was dragged out. Gar and Loras didn't spend nearly as much time with Willas, but the whole family pretty much held vigil over Willas until Maester Lomys finally figured out how to splint Willas's wrist, to heal the bone, and Willas wasn't constantly in pain. About a week later, Samwell Tarly arrived to act as Willas's page, a change that definitely both pleased me and caught me off guard. Sam was definitely every bit as sweet and kind as he was in canon, following Willas when needed, and absolutely pleased to help Willas recover and dive into academic texts together. The thought of him, as well as Jon Snow, in the far, far future, not having to resort to being in the Night's Watch sounded like a sweet possibility indeed.

To be fair, it wasn't as if his actual injury was as debilitating as his canon injury, which forced him to walk with a cane for the rest of his life, and made his legs flare up in injury every so often, but it was bad. From what I had gathered (and I had definitely NOT been a doctor in my last life), the wrist had broken in a way which caused irreparable nerve damage to his hands, making fine movement impossible. Even after his arm would recover, the nerve damage would make him shake consistently if too much pressure was applied, which meant that he could write a sentence, but the sentence turned into chicken-scratch as a result, and that was with the lightest of implements. Essentially, it was a more problematic version of the injury Stephen Strange in the MCU received, before becoming the Sorcerer Supreme (or was it the Supreme Sorcerer? My memories are about seven years off at this point, and slowly fading….)

I'm not sure why I reacted so badly, to be honest. Maybe it was the fact that I had hoped my brother would get out of the tournament, unscathed. Maybe it was the fact that I challenged fate, and had it violently disagree, giving me what I asked for as well as what I didn't want in a different way. Maybe it was the worry that fate would remain the same, and I'd die in wildfire if fate really wasn't malleable. Maybe it was pent up stress and grief. Whatever it was, it definitely frightened me and everyone around me to the point at which I hope I never repeat it again.

I pretty much followed my brothers like a shadow after that, for as long as my duties could allow me, and was more determined than ever to learn anything and everything I could about Westeros, from the interesting stuff (the political histories, economics, and so on), to the boring stuff (jousting, military strategy, and so on). Unfortunately, I was not very militarily minded, but mistakes kill, and if the Series wanted a tooth-and-nail battle, by the Seven, it would get it.

Of course, it was around that time where all of the real lessons on what was needed to become an effective Southern Lady started for my entourage of ladies and I - after all, you couldn't have a Southern Lady without all of the necessary components. This meant an introduction to embroidery, ballroom dancing, common songs, etiquette and ladylike manners that would allow us to become every bit the courtly lady we were meant to be.

I'm pleased to say that I succeeded at the more academic pursuits involved, like learning the languages of Westeros and Essos, the various histories of Westeros and heraldry, or learning how to handle inventories and ledgers, as any Great Lady ought to, even managing to sneak in any information about the North that I could in my lessons. Maester Lomys praised my precociousness, and with the academics, I really felt like I was back in university once again. However, the lessons geared towards being a lady, with Septa Nysterica? They were absolutely terrible.

The bright side of those lessons were in etiquette and singing lessons. Etiquette came easily to me, as an extension of politics and an academic pursuit, and singing lessons were fun - I had a decent singing voice. My ability to use musical instruments, like the high harp, were passable, and lessons using The Seven Pointed Star went alright, considering that I would either happen to 'accidentally' fall asleep, or question a certain part of the Seven-Pointed Star that would make Septa Nysterica glare at me for the rest of the lesson (and wash out my mouth with soap, on one particular occasion, for my perceived blasphemy).

However, some of the more physically-inclined subjects were nightmares due to my klutziness, which seemed to follow me into my second life. Fine detail in the form of embroidery always managed to escape me, and my entourage giggled every time I yelped in pain from accidentally pricking my finger with the needle or doing an incorrect stitch, which would usually result in me being asked to redo the stitch or given a new stitch (after all, you can't have a stitch if it's bled on). Not only that, I had no real mind for creative stitches, so things like stitching a pretty golden rose or designing my own outfits would not be happening in my future, which meant that I would probably need a particularly good personal dressmaker and embroiderer. This also really sucked because I would never be able to use my stitches for the battlefield, which would be highly likely as a Northern lady.

Dancing was almost just as bad - I stepped on a lot of toes as I was learning, and even if I had taken a dance class in university, my muscle memory clearly had not followed me. I hoped Robb was a particularly good dancer, as my dancing skills were passable and would probably never lead the ballroom to a standing ovation.

Being a Southern lady was a difficult task, and my respect for the noble ladies of Westeros drastically increased, when I realized that ladies like Sansa were able to easily do things like embroider or dance effortlessly. I had absolutely no idea what it meant to actually be a trophy wife. Unfortunately, while I would never look pretty and embroider at the hearth, I would rather be dealing with statecraft and running a Great House, which only reinforced my desire to become a Northern Lady. At least my skills would be in use there, and my skills respected because of it.

As Willas recovered, Samwell and Willas bonded, and of course, with their duties, it was often that I would run into both of them in the library, Willas reading a text, and Sam writing whatever notes Willas wanted written. I highly doubted that Randyll Tarly would allow his son control of Highgarden, but as Willas's page, it was possible that he would be sent to the Citadel instead of the Night's Watch, to serve as either a Maester or to learn scribing techniques to become Willa's official scribe. So long as Willas stayed in Highgarden, Sam would most likely be there. Perhaps if we either integrated Sam into our household or had him marry a cousin and grant him a small holdfast, Sam would live a happy life without having to contest Dickon's claim, even if his sparring in the tiltyard gets better, day by day. I doubted Randyll Tarly would dare send Sam to the Night's Watch, especially with how fond all of the Tyrell children were of him.

My schedule continued in that same manner, learning what needed to be learnt and brushing up on my knowledge. I wanted to be as prepared as possible, for anything that came up, and be able to react to surprises. Fortunately, one morning, all of the Tyrell children were called into our Father's solar to break our fast, a move most decidedly unlike him.

* * *

The family meal in the solar was wonderful, with all of the main branch of House Tyrell present. We talked, received gossip, and ate a hearty meal of carbohydrates. Of course, as kids do, Loras and Gar nearly started a food fight, as Loras threw some berries at Gar after Gar teased him. These berries nearly hit me, which meant I had to retaliate at Loras by throwing some berries at him, and hit Gar instead (childish, I know, but I was a child, so I could throw them back).

This went on for about some time, as we carefully avoided Father, Mother, and Grandmother. Willas laughed, his shaking forgotten, until Loras started using him as a human shield. Eventually, Mother shouted at us for our lack of manner and stopped the fight. I looked guiltily at the berries strewn around the ground for the household staff to pick up, and clambered down from my chair to pick some berries up, as daintily as I could, to not run my dress. After I shot my brothers a glare, they helped as well, leaving a very appreciative household staff.

Eventually, as we re-seated, Father's face turned serious, and he commanded us to sit down, facing us. Mother looked worriedly, and grandmother had her "Queen of Thorns" face out in full force, looking neutrally at the proceedings. Loras and I shared a glance, both agreeing that something was going on, and all of us sat, looking at our father expectantly.

Father cleared his throat briefly.

"My roses," he began. "You have most likely learned about your roles in the future to serve House Tyrell from Septa Nysterica, yes?" We all nodded hesitantly, sharing glances with one another in nervousness and/or confusion. Oh shit. Here it was, the betrothal talk. Evidently, the Queen of Thorns had been plotting, using Willas's tourney injury to spark a chain. Perhaps, with Willas's injury not as bad, father would betroth his son to a Lady in the Reach? We listened carefully as he continued.

"There is a time and place for everything, my children, and the time and the place is now. We do not wish to scare you, indeed, we are very proud of you. Do not take this announcement as a bad thing, as a matter of fact-" Father said genially, lost in his own world. Mother looked more and more nervous as the conversation went on, her hands running over the sleeves of her dress in an attempt to calm her down.

"Oh, by the Seven, Mace, just spit it out already!" Grandmother barked, exasperated.

"But Mother, ah, I-" Father waffled, clearly nervous. This was big, then.

"Now, Mace!" Grandmother commanded sharply.

Father gave us a nervous smile. "Willas and Loras, you have both been betrothed." Father said.

Willas looked at our father, surprised. "To whom, father?" he asked, hesitantly. "Yeah, to who, father?" Loras asked loudly.

Father looked more nervous, his eyes darting around the room. Oh no, this was going to be bad.

"Willas, Prince Doran has sent me a reply, and both of us agreed. You are to be betrothed to Arianne Martell, Princess of Dorne, and will be her Prince Consort in Sunspear." Mace replied.

Willas looked absolutely dumbfounded. For that matter, I was too. Prince Doran actually sacrificed his plans to have Arianne on the throne with Viserys? He approved of the match? Then again, Prince Doran was a very cautious man, and it wasn't as if he couldn't just kill off Viserys and install Daenerys on the throne with Quentyn as King, to put Westeros under the control of House Martell. After all, he didn't know about the dragons, or Daenerys's independent streak, so he probably just recalculated his plans, with the Reach included, as per Willas and Arianne, for a more likely plan.

Willas flipped through a range of emotions, excitement, neutrality, worry, and settled on sorrow. His hands shook, as he looked near tears. Garlan and Loras both looked confused, until Garlan's eyes widened in recognition and sadness, and both Gar and I looked at our brother sadly.

"Father?" Willas asked, in a fragile tone of voice. "Is- is this because of my arms?" Tears dropped silently down his face as he continued brokenly. "I know I can't- can't pick up a sword and fight like Leo Longhorn, but…..is this because I'm a cripple?"

Father turned pale, looking like he didn't know what to say, as Mother immediately rushed over to Willas and embraced him in a warm hug.

"Oh sweetling," Mother said softly. "This is not your fault, in any way that matters, and you are NOT a cripple. We are just entrusting the most solemn of our tasks to our bravest boy, and we know you will grow strong in Dorne. As a matter of fact, Prince Doran requested you directly, because he knew you were the most qualified. We love you, sweetling, and we want only the best for our precious Willas."

Willas seemed unconvinced, as he slowly wiped his tears, and Mother reluctantly let go of the embrace to rejoin father, who looked guiltily at Willas, unsure if he should comfort his son or continue. I stood up and stepped out of my chair, and sidled next to Willas in his chair, like I used to when I was younger. It was a tight chair, and we were a little too big for that. His brief embrace was shaky, but his breaths softened with my presence, and I knew we were okay.

Father nervously continued. "Because of this, Garlan, you will be heir to Highgarden, as Willas will not be able to inherit as a husband of a ruling Princess of Dorne."

Gar looked dumbfounded, but for a completely different reason this time. My brother would have power, and his children would rule our family seat, but at the cost of Willas's position and his future relationship with Leonette. I doubted our family would allow him to marry a Fossoway, as a Heir Paramount of a Great House - the Fossoways could field a midding army and held no real advantage politically or militarily. Gar stared at the solar contemplatively. Gar had not had any lessons on ruling Highgarden, and it would be a steep adjustment for him from a knight, to a Lord Paramount.

"Father, who am I betrothed to?" Loras asked curiously.

"You are to be betrothed to Talla Tarly, daughter of Randyll Tarly," Father answered. Hmm...that wasn't exactly a bad match either, to be honest. Randyll Tarly is probably the most important Reach lord we could sway over, and if Sam were toughened up, or sent out of the way, and his daughter betrothed to a Tyrell, he'd be indebted to us, with the motive to back us up and run our armies for generations to come.

"But Talla's older than me! And she's weird!" Loras exclaimed. Everyone else in the room laughed, save for me, because I knew my poor younger brother had no affectation towards women, at least, not in canon.

"Oh Loras, settle down. You will have many moons to get to know Talla, mayhaps you will be her Jonquil!" Mother said happily. Ah, mother…

"As for you, my little Queen," Father started. "Your mother told me that you had desired a Northern noble to exchange letters with. Is that correct?"

Surprise showed on my face, before I nodded enthusiastically. "Yes, father, I did!" I practically sang, in pure happiness. It worked! I'm really going to be exchanging letters with Robb!

Father presented me an unopened letter. "Lord Stark and I corresponded, and we agreed to allow you, and his heir, Robb Stark, to exchange letters, for you to learn more of Northern customs and traditions, and for him, to learn more of Southern customs and traditions, as well. Father's eyes twinkled briefly, in a hint of mischieviousness from him. "Make the best use of this as you can, little Rose." he finished merrily.

Our family then spoke for a bit, before Grandmother shooed out all of us children out of the solar, most likely to begin whatever daily work they needed to do. I ran to my room, and when I arrived, I opened my letter excitedly. It had a child's handwriting, with some ink slashes and the corrected word written atop, which I presume must have been done by Catelyn Stark, but it was Robb's handwriting. It read the following:

" _Dear Lady Margaery Tyrell,_

_Hello! My name is Robb Stark! Mother says that I am to be your writing com-pan-ion, and that you wanted someone to learn more about us Northerners, and that maybe I can learn more about the South as well, because she says it is important for heirs to learn about all of their con-sti-tu-ents. I've never had a writing companion before, and I'm excited to share more about my people as well as myself._

_I am seven name days old, like you, and I have three younger siblings, Jon, Sansa, and baby Arya, who was just born two moons ago. Jon is a bastard, or so the servants say, but he's my younger brother and I love him. I live in Winterfell, and father says that one day, I will rule the North. Winterfell is an amazing place, and mother says that down south, there is no summer snow, so I don't know what you do all day, but it's pretty here. I spend a lot of my time learning with Maester Luwin, or sparring with Jon with Ser Rodrik._

_Do you have any brothers or sisters? Sansa likes to play Princesses and Knights with us, except her and Jon don't get along as much anymore, which makes me sad. Jon loves Arya though, he cried at her birth, but he always says he doesn't. Do you make your brothers play Princesses and Knights with you too? I want to hear more about your family as well!_

_I'm excited to answer your questions about the North, and to hear more about the South. It sounds like a lovely place. I hope I can help you learn more about our home and people, and I hope you like the letter!_

_Sincerely,_

_Robb Stark, Heir to Winterfell_

It was weird reading the letter - certain parts were clearly wrote under Catelyn's instructions, like the formal parts at the beginning at the end, but other parts were all Robb. It was weird thinking about wanting to marry this kid in the future, but we would be….friends, first, so it wouldn't be creepy.

I grabbed my quill at my little desk and began the letter,

" _Dear Lord Robb Stark,"_...


	7. INTERLUDE: Robb & Margaery's Letters, 289-296 AC

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Margaery and Robb exchange letters over the course of six years or so, and slowly grow together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When the writing bug hits you, the writing bug hits you. Welcome to "fluff and slow burn", Robbaery edition. A few small changes here turn into much larger changes, as Margaery influences the North even earlier merely by virtue of being a Southern Lady other than Catelyn for Sansa. I also added a little show canon with the Jon incident (which is still possible in book canon, but smooths Jon and Catelyn's relationship a little). I hope you like this, as a way of progressing the plot, and as a way of depicting the changes that our SI Marge is creating. Of course, this is still Westeros, so I promise you, this is the calm before the storm I'm about to inflict on everyone later. Can't have a plot that's too easy, after all...

**INTERLUDE: Robb & Margaery's Letters, 289-296 AC**

Mid-late 289

_Dear Lady Margaery,_

_Thank you for your letter. Highgarden sounds pretty, and I loved hearing about your family. Your brothers sound just like Jon and I - we both want to become knights like Garlan and Loras. You don't seem as...girly, as my sister Sansa, but I like that you know so much! I'm glad we're writing companions (did I spell that right?), and I hope to hear more about the South!_

_To answer your question: we pray at the Godswood, and Mother prays in the Sept, but sometimes she joins us at the Godswood. It's a giant forest with a bunch of trees, and there's a tree in the center called the Heart Tree, with a face on it. Father says that every tree is made out of weirwood and has a face in the center of the tree, because he says that the old gods watch over us all through the faces in the tree, and no man can tell a lie beneath the Heart Tree. It's not so different from praying with Septa Mordane, but there is a lot less reading, and we do our praying in private. I think I like that better than praying to the Seven, except Mother would get angry if I told her that, so I try not to._

_As for my question: Sansa keeps going on and on about the knights and the songs or how the South is filled with tourneys, and that knights wear colorful fabric as they joust, and crown a Queen of Love and Beauty. Sansa also tells me that knights are honorable, and just, like in the songs, and when I asked Father, he said that it was not always true. So my first question to you is: are knights down South like the songs?_

_My siblings are hard to work with even at the best of times, though Mother said we are to get a new sibling soon! Sansa thinks that our sibling will be a girl, and Jon thinks our sibling will be a boy, but it doesn't really matter to me. Jon and I spend a lot of time together still, but Sansa has started calling Jon her half-brother, and hearing that from Sansa hurts him. She says that Mother is a good example of a Southern Lady, and she wants to become a Southern lady like Mother. Since you're a southern lady, and know a lot of Southern Ladies, is this the right thing for a Southern lady to do?_

_Father says that Lord Greyjoy has declared a rebellion, and he has left leave to defend the North. It scares me, because Father is strong, but what if Father dies? Father also said Lord Mace should do the same, before he left, as any Lord should. I don't know if your Father is going to do the same as well._

_With this letter, are we friends now? Because we're going to be writing letters for a long time, and I want us to be good friends._

_Sincerely,_

_Robb Stark_

* * *

Early 290

_Dear Robb,_

_Of course we're friends, silly! I even dropped the "Lord" in front of Robb - you can address your letters to Margaery instead of Lady Margaery, since we're friends now, and we're going to be friends for a long time, see?_

_That's wonderful to hear - we have a Godswood in Highgarden, but I don't think we have a Heart Tree, and nobody has carved a face yet. It doesn't seem like you have to choose between the Seven and the Old Gods, and I like the idea of praying to both the Old Gods and the New. I didn't tell Septa Nysterica that, of course - the last time I asked about the Seven Pointed Star, she washed my mouth out with soap! Bleck!_

_To answer your first questions, knights are just like anyone else. Some knights are good, like Aemon the Dragonknight, or like my brothers will be, but other knights are scary or can do bad things, like the Mountain. Southerners are like anyone else, which is why you and Sansa should be just as careful talking to one as you would any other Northerner, perhaps even more. The songs are pretty, but my grandmother says that even the songs can lie, and that Rhaegar Targaryen had his empty head full of songs before being beaten by Robert Baratheon._

_Send my best wishes to your mother and your younger sibling - by the time this letter arrives, your sibling should be born. Mother says that a woman's battle is in the birthing bed, but I'm not sure how much of that was to scare me or how much of that was true._

_Tell Sansa that a good Southern lady is respectful to everyone around her, even her half-brother. They still share the same hearth, and break bread together, like a good Southern lady does with her knight, which means that they are siblings. Not only that, Jon may end up as her sword shield one day, or protect her, so Sansa should treat her brother well. Your mother might be angry at Jon because he's a bastard, but only because she's scared that he might take your claim and try to become Lord of Winterfell over you. Jon doesn't sound like the kind of person to do so, though, so she shouldn't do that, in my opinion. But then again, I'm learning more about the North than I am the South, so my question to you is: what is a Northern lady like?_

_Father has gone off with Lord Tarly to secure the western borders and rivers of the Reach, and Lord Redwyne sent out his fleet. The Ironborn are scary, and Willas keeps scaring me with horror stories about how the Ironborn plunder villages. Garlan and Willas are hard at work in their new Lordship lessons, and Loras has made more of an effort to play with Talla, but he still thinks she's weird, which is funny._

_My question to you is: How does the north sustain itself? I imagine it gets really cold, and that's probably not good for the plants either. I've read that glass gardens are a type of garden they use in really cold environments, but is that only in places like Winterfell, or everywhere else around the North?_

_Send my best wishes to your family, and I'll pray to the Seven that your family and my family return from battle safe!_

_Sincerely,_

_Margaery_

_P.S.: My guess is that you will have a new baby brother when I next receive your letter._

* * *

Mid-Late 290

_Dear Margaery,_

_I've dropped the lady from your name, see? I'm glad that we're friends now!_

_I also showed Sansa what you wrote, and she cried a little bit, and apologized to Jon. She said that even though Jon may be her half-brother, Jon is still her brother, and can still be her Aemon Dragonknight when she plays Naerys, promising to stop her mean treatment of him. I used to be her Aemon Dragonknight, so I'm not sure if I should be happy that they're nicer to each other now, or angry because I have to play the evil knight every time, now. Arya is still a baby, but she coos at Jon when she sees him, so I don't think I'm anyone's favorite right now. Speaking of siblings, though, my brother, Brandon was born no more than a moonturn ago! I'm sure House Tyrell received the announcements - father sent them to all the Houses, but Sansa was right and House Stark is ecstatic! Jon is not unhappy, as Arya has finally grown enough to follow Jon around constantly, and he dotes over her. Mother is displeased, but as Jon is my brother, so I will support him._

_Father is supposed to be arriving back soon, he beat the Ironborn, according to Mother, who said that he was helped by men like King Robert, Lord Lannister, and Lord Redwyne. Theon Greyjoy is supposed to be our guest though, and I hope we can become friends, or maybe even sparring together. Sparring at the tiltyard with Jon is no longer any fun because we keep fighting each other - I need more brothers or companions for that!_

_To answer your first question, Lady Mormont was in Winterfell a few moons ago (right after I received your letter), and I asked her that. She said that a Northern Lady needed to be tough, and strong, like the winter our house words are named after, and manage the household, survive in harsh conditions, fight in battles, and raise strong lords and ladies, and that Northern women are not "fainting flowers who disguise their words between finery" (Mother helped me spell that), or whatever that means. Mother agreed, but said that any Southern lady wanting to go to the North needs to be strong, and value family, duty, and honor, but those were the Tully words. Sansa wants to know - what does it take to be a Southern lady?_

_Winterfell does have a glass garden! Sansa loves them, lemon cakes are her favorite! I asked Mother if there were glass gardens anywhere else in the North, and she said that most houses didn't have glass gardens, but instead, they have brick rooms, for plants that don't need sunlight, and a lot of heat. We mostly eat plants like carrots, eat a lot of meat, and have a lot of bread up North though._

_I'm glad that we aren't fighting any more. That means father is home and the family spends time with one another. Hope to hear from you soon!_

_Your friend,_

_Robb_

_P.S.: How did you know? I was so sure our sibling would be another girl._

* * *

Early 291

_Dear Robb,_

_The war is over, the Ironborn are gone, but for the past moon or so, Willas has been sent off to foster in Dorne, so there is still little joy in my days. He will marry Arianne in twelve moonturn, and my brother will be in Sunspear for the rest of his days. Willas has called me silly, of course, because he will come to Highgarden every once in a while, but my brother has met Arianne and they are a good match!_

_All of my brothers are my favorites, but I think out of all of them, I love Loras best. I love Willas and I love Gar, but Loras and I are like twins, and he always manages to know when I am reading a text, and when I need to be dragged outside to play with him. When Loras is bored, and I'm reading something, he'll sidle up to me and he naps while I read. Willas and Garlan love each other most, but I think that all siblings have a favorite, anyways, so maybe this new sibling will be your favorite, or you, his._

_Reading what Lady Mormont says is so interesting! I'm fairly decent at managing ledgers for a household, but I've never lived anywhere but Highgarden or handled any weapons, unless you count the needle - I've only barely stopped poking myself on accident when I embroider. Being a Northern lady sounds nice though - to answer Sansa's question: all Southern ladies must learn to embroider really well, have good etiquette and good knowledge of heraldry, have a good singing voice or play an instrument, be fluent in a lot of languages, and understand the court. Grandmother says that Southern ladies need a keen sense of politics, and that if Sansa wants to become a true Southern lady, she'll need to hide her smiles and charm behind a cunning mind to play the Game. Mother says that Southern ladies need to charm a household and provide heirs and spares for their lords, and that the rest will come in time._

_Father told me that Northerners are very honorable, and that House Stark inspires loyalty in their men - that the Starks are so loved by the North that the North fights for them. The Reach isn't like that at all though, and Grandmother tells me that Reacher houses are just looking for an opportunity to send us out of Highgarden. My question, for you, is: is that true? How will you plan to rule as Lord of Winterfell?_

_Your friend,_

_Margaery_

* * *

Mid-Late 291

_Dear Margaery,_

_With Bran as a toddler, and Sansa and Jon talking again, we each have new favorites. Jon has established Arya as his favorite, even though he sneaks Sansa lemon cakes from the kitchen when she wants. I am now Sansa's favorite brother, and after your letter, Sansa has constantly sought lessons from the Maester about heraldry - all to prepare her for becoming Queen, she says, and practices courtly manners a lot more with Mother and Septa Mordane. We now play games pretending to be the court at King's Landing, with Sansa as Queen, I, as her Hand, and Jon, as her kingsguard knight, against Arya, the dragon queen, and Sansa enjoys bossing me around. Theon Greyjoy has begun his stay in Winterfell, and I think that Jon and I have both adopted him - he's loud, and wild, not like Jon, who likes to silently brood, or like me, who calmly enjoys life, but we've adjusted, and he is our friend, so I suppose you are not my only Southern friend now._

_To that matter, Mother and Father have started to instruct Sansa and I in politics, as they have said it is just about the right time for that. Father spends time talking with me about Northern politics, and how to appease all my bannerman, or creates complicated situations where I have to solve problems as the Warden of the North. Mother uses past history, like the Dance of the Dragons to teach us the Southern politics she learned as a child, but she tells us that we can't read history books to figure out the result. I have found that I have not a head for politics, but that my strengths lie in military strategy, leadership, battles...and a surprising one: dancing. Battles, and military strategy are easy - learning about battles is interesting, and spending time in the tiltyard also helps with that. Sansa and I have learned to dance, and my skill in the tiltyard seems to have transferred there!_

_How do Southerners keep a head for such things? Sansa cannot do her sums well, and still can resolve a crisis better than I can. It's difficult, but I'm learning, and Mother says that my Lady Wife can help me resolve some issues, like how she helps Father. I don't know if I am ready to think about betrothals, Margaery - we are both only nine name days old, and so much rests on us. I just hope that if I meet someone, they're as kind and understanding as you are._

_The Reach worries me...if Reacher bannerman don't respect House Tyrell, how does House Tyrell help them and the smallfolk? Thinking of bannerman like the Cassels, the Cerwyns, and the Mormonts wanting to force us out scares me. So I suppose, to answer your questions: I am only nine name days old, almost ten namedays, but...if I wanted to be a lord, I would want to be like my father. Everyone likes him, I have heard not a single bad opinion of my father. Father is always just and merciful with all of his bannerman, and Father will always talk to smallfolk and nobles alike to make sure everyone is happy. Father has said once that being a lord is like having a bunch of children and worrying for them, and thinking about Arya and Bran….I want to protect them, and so I want to protect my subjects._

_My question for you is this: Septa Mordane says sometimes under her breath that Northerners are savages, but I hear her, and I know she's from the Riverlands, so is that an opinion among the South? What do you think about Northerners?_

_Your friend,_

_Robb_

* * *

Early 292

_Robb,_

_Take that back right away! The Iron Islands most certainly do NOT count as the South, and so I am your only Southern friend as of now! Truthfully, the Iron Islands exist as an in-between totally different to both the North and the Reach, so I suppose even by technicality, I am still your only friend from the South._

_I am currently writing this from the Water Gardens, after the eve of House Tyrell's trip to Dorne for the wedding of my brother, Willas, to my new good-sister, Arianne! Dorne is absolutely lovely, though it is a little too warm for my tastes, and the food is spicy, and burns my mouth, which makes Arianne and her relatives laugh. I cannot handle spices very well, it seems. I've bonded with Arianne in our love for adventure and talk about politics, and Willas is particularly happy with his new bride, as she seems to enjoy adventure, and my gentle-hearted brother enjoys reading and waiting for Arianne to come back from her adventures! Willas's page, Samwell, is in Highgarden as squire to Ser Garlan Tyrell, who won a tourney a few moonturn ago, and was knighted, as a result! Loras is supposed to begin squiring for Lord Renly Baratheon in about twelve moonturns from now, so I am enjoying as much time as I can with my brothers before they are separated from me, and I am sent to foster somewhere, as well._

_It is good to hear that Lord Stark and Lady Stark plan to give you more lessons in politics. Politics is important, as the children of Lord Paramounts, and we must do our best to help not only our family, but the smallfolk around us. Grandmother has begun to do the same for me, as she says that none of her roses shall leave with an empty head and a face for only courtesies, as a repeat of last time, with her daughters. I personally think that it is a bit uncharitable of an interpretation, but Grandmother says as Grandmother does._

_Not everyone has the same strengths, Robb, and it's good that you're learning that you can't do it all alone. If a Lord were to be amazing at every aspect of life, it would be a song, but it is important as a Lord that you depend on other people and use their counsel for the betterment of others, perhaps like Lord Stark and Lady Stark do. For example, I am a terrible dancer still, only able to do the perfunctory steps, but I hope that mayhaps my husband will have two better feet than me, to lead the dance. If Sansa can't do her sums, she can just have a particularly good castellan - my cousin Desmera is the worst at sums I have ever seen (probably worse than Sansa), and so I hope that her house has an efficient castellan, lest she miscalculate her inventories and have the house go hungry._

_To be honest, the only reason Southerners keep a head for such games is because it is necessary for us to survive. For instance, in the North, calling the banners would be easy, as your banners keep their promises to swear fealty to House Stark, but in the Reach, calling the banners is an act that requires you to see which houses you are tied to with marriages, and to offer other houses some form of reward, or hold some kind of leverage, in order to keep your banners together. The Reach can field the largest army in Westeros, yes, but the work that Father and eventually, Garlan, will have to do will be difficult. That is one of the reasons I admire the North so - true loyalty and fealty are hard to find, and it must be nice to know that your loyalty has forever garnered trust in your bannerman._

_Northerners are an ancient, honorable people with the blood of the First Men, and to be honest, I will never understand the idea that the Northerners are savages. Reachmen say the same thing about Dorne, and yet all I have experienced in Sunspear has been peace and love from the Rhyonar. I think part of it is fear - a lot of Southerners never meet Northerners, so they hear stories about Northmen like Cregan Stark, or Torrhen, or so on, and start picturing Northmen as these savage beasts that they are not, and let that color their perceptions. If more Northerners wrote to Southerners like you and I, I think the world would be better off for it, would it not?_

_My question to you: how on earth do Northern economics work? The North is such a large region, and has so many points uninhabited, like Sea Dragon Point, that I'm curious to learn more about why that is the case. Is the soil simply too frozen to grow plants? Or is there some kind of political reason for that?_

_Your friend,_

_Margaery_

* * *

Mid-Late 292

_Margaery,_

_Alright, alright, I relent, my lady. You are still my only friend from the South as of now. It's funny to say this, but at this point, I feel like you know me better than anyone save for my siblings. When I originally started this letter-writing business, I didn't think it would work out, and it seemed like a very strange tasks, but now, I can hardly wait to see your letters, and I hope you feel the same way about mine own._

_Quite a few things have occurred at Winterfell as of late. Firstly, Jon fell ill while Father went out to resolve a land dispute - very deathly ill with the pox, to the point that we nearly thought Jon wouldn't make it. It was the scariest moment of our lives - Arya refused to leave his bedside until Mother eventually forced her out, and Sansa was sobbing so hard during one of her embroidery lessons that Septa Mordane had to cancel it once she heard the news that Jon would either live or die that same night. I don't think Bran really understood - he was just more upset that his access to Jon was denied, as Bran likes to snuggle up with everyone. I wish I could tell you that I reacted stoically, or did something more than panic and cry, but I cried, and panicked. Eventually, I went to the Sept, thinking that if I prayed to the Old Gods and the New, I could save my brother. To my surprise, I heard Mother praying for the health of Jon! She said that if Jon lived, she would begin treating Jon like a son, and making up for her mistake. I went to the Godswood, to do my prayers, and went back to the Sept, but by the time I was there, Mother had gone! For a fortnight or so, I had thought it to be a particularly cruel dream, but it turned out to be real!_

_Jon recovered that night, and after that, one night, about a moon later, Mother and Father apparently had a talk in the solar that was the gossip of the servants everywhere in Winterfell, though none of the servants knew what was said, nor did Mother and Father divulge their conversation when I had asked. Apparently, Mother left Father's solar that night with red-rimmed eyes, and avoided Father for about a day, but after that, Mother apologized to Jon and began treating him like she had promised. The Stark family is complete, and I have never seen Father nor Jon any happier. Though Jon has not been legitimized yet, I am hoping that Mother and Father eventually see sense and legitimize Jon, though according to Sansa, after all of our other siblings, present and future, to prevent succession issues. It doesn't really matter to me, and Sansa and I both know Jon would never do that - she just wanted to show off her political knowledge, thanks to the "wonderful Lady Margaery's advice" and that Sansa is "preparing to be Queen, after all"! If you feel your ears burning, it is wholly because of Sansa, and I apologize for that._

_I send my heartiest congratulations to Willas and Princess Arianne! The fact that they seem so happy together gives me hope for the future, as Mother has started to talk about betrothals a little more lately, now that I am nearly eleven name days old. Mother says that she will not betroth me to anyone I don't want to, but that it is my duty as Heir of Winterfell to make a good match to secure the household. I told her that maybe in a year or two, I would be able to tell her who I would want to be betrothed to. Do you get the same talks, or is that just me?_

_To answer your question: I asked Father this, and Father responded by saying that certain parts of the North are treacherous enough that there are not a lot of smallfolk there, and that there need not be so many holdfasts without smallfolk to hold onto. It is tough to grow plants, but an infusion of funds could make it easier because glass gardens could be built. I think it'd be interesting to work on as Lord of Winterfell, because Father says that every Lord should better House Stark if they could. I asked Father what his projects were and he ruffled my hair. He knows I hate when he does that!_

_My question to you is: what are your thoughts on bastards? I know that in the South, bastards are seen as a family's shame, but I cannot imagine Jon as any kind of shame - I can imagine him as naught but my brother, and I want to know what my dear friend thinks of him._

_Your friend,_

_Robb_

* * *

Early-Mid 293

_Robb,_

_I will start the letter by talking very frankly about your brother and the nature of bastards, because I know how important Jon is to you. I have always never understood why bastards were given such a bad name, and why every Southern song or tale about the Blackfyres always ends in a bastard as the one wronging the rightful heir. It's not as though bastards can control when they are born, and who they are born to, and if they were born out of an adulterous affair, it is the fault of the Lord or Lady who did the act in the first place, not the bastard child. Bastards are just like every other man, or woman, after all, and based on your letters, Jon is a kindhearted brother who definitively does not deserve the shame that has been placed upon him. In Dorne, bastards are seen as an act of passion, which is why they are so accepted there. If Jon is feeling uncomfortable with his treatment, I would suggest him to move to Dorne and join Willas and Arianne, but with Lady Stark so accommodating and all of your siblings clearly loving your brother, Jon, I suspect he will have no reason to leave the North, and I hope to meet him someday._

_It is also deeply relieving to hear that your brother has recovered from the pox, and was fully accepted into House Stark because of it. I remember when Willas was injured at the tourney, and how distraught I was from it. Can you believe I shrieked so loudly the entire stands heard and fainted in Loras's arm? I followed Willas all the time after that injury, and still regularly send ravens to my brother to make sure he is fine - which is something that Willas and Arianne humor me with. That sort of stress stays with you, and I'm glad it didn't end badly._

_I am also glad to hear that Sansa enjoys the advice I give to her - if there was any advice I would give her now, it would be to stop harping on her poor brother and quietly command, as Queens do, as opposed to mentioning that she was a Queen. A Queen that has to say "I am the Queen" is no real queen at all! Send my best wishes to her, Arya, Bran, and Jon!_

_Father has started to talk about betrothals and about the possibility of fostering, but Grandmother always manages to shut him down. Loras is betrothed, and Willas is married, but no matches seem to exist for Gar and I, even though Gar and I could care less. I am told that it is important for me to find a good husband, but the thought of being matched to a man who doesn't care for me or respect me as an equal scares me. I know that it is silly, and that life is not a song, and Grandmother reminds me of that constantly as she relentlessly drills me into understanding politics, but I am still a lady at heart, who loves sweet songs and dreams of a Jaehaerys to my Alysanne, and so the day continues forward._

_Speaking of fostering, now that Willas is out of Highgarden, and Loras is going to be fostering in the Stormlands with Lord Renly Baratheon, Mother is starting to lament our leaving and is spending every ounce of time she can (when not consumed with her duties), with her children. Gar has just pretty much accepted it, and Mother and I spend time together as we embroider and she patiently shows me how to make some designs. I'm not going to be making fancy Southern dresses any time soon, but I can fix a shirt, so my sewing is passable._

_I told you in another set of letters about my entourage of girls that I spend time with. Well, over the course of time, we've developed a bond, and I'm proud to say that my entourage now acts as a miniature "spy network" where they report all of the gossip of Highgarden to me! It's not anything spectacular, and I definitely do not intend on creating something much larger, but working with my entourage on information gathering, as well as making fun events out of going to orphanages to help the poor and such allows us to help others, and have fun while doing it. I jokingly called it "a sorority" but the name stuck, and now, Highgarden has a "sorority" of noble girls that are the envy of everyone in the Reach! Of course, it is helped by the fact that girls have to approve other members, and service within the community is a requirement so that the noble girls can use their spirit towards charitable means, and now, equivalents are popping up all over Westeros to mimic the Reach. Maybe that will be my big contribution to Westeros long after my death - Margaery Tyrell, the inventor of sororities! Hah!_

_To be honest, I feel like we've grown to know one another and the North so well that I don't really feel the need to "ask" a question about the North. Is that weird? We have exchanged letters for three to four rotations around the sun, and here we are, as dear friends. I much rather would hear about your life, or the various going-ons of House Stark. Let me know what you think!_

_Your friend,_

_Margaery_

* * *

Late 293

_Margaery_

_You have no idea how relieved I am to hear of your opinion of Jon. He's my brother, and knowing that my dearest friend (don't tell Theon, though), accepts my brother is a balm to my soul. House Stark is fairly normal, as the same-old, same-old has occurred around Winterfell. After reading the tales of Aegon the Conqueror, and the tales of other warrior queens, like Queen Nymeria, Arya has begun insisting that she will become the next Visenya. Arya is unfortunately a young girl, and Rodrik Cassel will NOT train young Arya in the tiltyard. But Arya wants as Arya does, as Sansa saw Jon sneaking out with Arya, to train her with swords, after what I bet was just her pleading eyes, and in exchange for her silence to anyone other than me, Jon would sneak her out some more lemon cakes. Really, my sisters…_

_Sansa thanked you for the advice about Queenship and is a little more serious about it now, reading a little more about what is necessary to be queen. Arya told Sansa sarcastically that if Sansa wanted to be queen, Sansa had better brush up on her sums, which sent Sansa crying, and I, comforting her for it. Our lessons are going fairly well, especially as Mother and Father have both really invested their time, with Maester Luwin, and Septa Mordane, into our lessons, and I feel a little more prepared for all of the responsibility. The tiltyard is also going really well - I have only gotten better and better at my swordwork, and with other lessons, like horseback riding, which I have imagined you have already learnt, mayhaps we will be ready, after all when the time comes._

_If it helps, I can't imagine any man that would dare treat you less than an equal, or not respect you, as they would have to answer your brothers, your family, and me. In the North, we believe that if a woman can run the household just as efficiently as a man, she should be treated with the same respect a Northern man is treated. It bothers me that it's not the same way down South._

_I can agree with you that even though life is not a song, I too want life with a woman I love. We are noble children though, and I know we must do our duty, but the thought of being forced to marry a woman whose face I would not even see before the wedding day is terrifying. I just hope that you and I, at the end of the day, marry someone we both love._

_I have told Sansa about the "sororities" that you have built in the Reach, as you have called them, and Sansa looked excited to think about doing the same thing with her best friend, Jeyne Poole! Of course, poor Jon is now unwittingly placed into the position of her "event planner", mostly because Jon immediately folds to any of Sansa's pouts, but it seems like a good idea, and a start to a wonderful legacy indeed. In comparison, I've only managed to learn about Southern politics, but we're all learning there._

_Margaery, I was thinking a similar thing with questions about the South. It's kind of hard writing new questions when you've learnt so much, and have a dear friend a raven away to answer problems. Our correspondence has worked as planned, but it seems as though the correspondence will continue, though as good friends. I told Father this and he laughed at me, before telling me that I was free to continue writing to you for as long as you, and I both wanted to. Mother looked particularly pleased for some reason, when I told her as well, but I didn't dwell on it too much._

_Yours,_

_Robb_

_P.S.: Mother has realized that we have not had a picture of one another. Mother has enclosed a locket with my painting attached, for you to get an idea of what your friend looks like._

* * *

Mid 294

_Robb,_

_I'm glad to hear that our correspondences will continue! Father and Grandmother seem to be in full support of it, and I enjoy receiving my letters from you, rare as though they may be. It almost feels as though you and I are connected through these letters, and my decision to ask to write a Northern noble about the North has been absolutely worth it. I will also say that you look handsome in your painting, and I appreciated the locket!_

_Loras has left to foster with Renly, and Willas and Arianne stopped to visit Highgarden! Arianne was ecstatic to see the beauty of Highgarden, and it was lovely spending time with my brother and my good-sister. Willas has become quite tan as a result of living in Sunspear, and even if he spends way too much time at the library and breeding his Dornish Sand Steeds, my good-sister is happy with the outcome, and happy with Prince Doran working with her to become Princess of Dorne. Willas enjoys it in Dorne, and my brother is safe, which is all I ask for, as of now._

_Grandmother's lessons have been tougher and tougher, and the Maester is complaining that I am running out of things to be taught, save for the military subjects, which still put me to sleep, but between that, and Septa Nysterica's attempt to make me completely memorize the Seven Pointed-Star, I never have the time to be bored. My only real regret in terms of my education is that I don't know how to defend myself in the case where my guards have been disabled or I have been caught unawares, but that will unfortunately have to be directly under the purview of my husband._

_Gar has had some trouble recently, adjusting to being heir of Highgarden. Unfortunately, Gar had a meeting with a girl, Leonette, and wanted to betroth himself to her, but Father disapproved of the match, and as the new heir to Highgarden, he could not deny Father, and did his duty. Gar is pretty saddened about it, as he really liked her, but Mother and I comforted him and now, Gar is back in the tiltyard fighting three squires at one, like his usual. Speaking of squires, Sam has gone back to Horn Hill to begin preparing to inherit Horn Hill, under the direction of his father. His father has a spare, Dickon, but Sam has matured enough that Lord Tarly seems to trust him to lead House Tarly, however begrudgingly, Rumor has it that Lord Tarly had originally disapproved of his son for being too weak, but I suppose time with Garlan constantly beating you up would make you learn something._

_Thank you Robb, that helps quite a bit, actually! A husband like you would be a luckness for any lady. It is difficult sometimes, to make friends, or talk to people about betrothals, for some Lords may see me as Highgarden, and you as Winterfell, if that makes sense, but you and I are similar in that we are both children of Lord Paramounts. We are noble children, but we can do our best to play within the game, and find our happy endings through that. Grandmother always says that I should make my own destiny, so I will do the best I can, and I hope you do, too._

_Yours,_

_Margaery_

_P.S.: Given that you have sent me a locket, I have no choice but to send one back! I hope you don't mind it!_

* * *

Early 295

_Margaery,_

_Mother is expecting another child, and all of us have made our bets! Arya, Bran, and I have bet that this new sibling will be a boy, while Jon, Theon, and Sansa are betting that this sibling will be a girl. Mother, is of course, excited, and Father and the Maester frets over Mother, as they think it will be a difficult birth. By the time you read this letter, our sibling may even be born!_

_I have started my first big project under the direction of Father - we are taking inventories for a longer winter and researching more into glass gardens and brick rooms for plants. I am excited, as if this project succeeds, and we find cheaper ways to build glass houses, maybe more smallfolk will be fed and we can move further north. It seems as though it is a long way coming, though - Essos is pretty strict about what they share and research is old and limited on improving glass techniques. I know that projects are not supposed to be easy, and that they need to be long term, I am still highly frustrated that this isn't resolving itself._

_Uncle Benjen came to visit, with tales of the Wall. Jon started brooding about it, because even though Mother treats him as basically her third son, Jon still believes that a bastard's lot in life was on the Wall, reinforced by Uncle Benjen's stories. That didn't survive any longer than a week, because all of the siblings freaked out on him. Sansa immediately started sobbing and asking Jon who was going to be on her Kingsguard if Jon wasn't there to protect his Queen. Arya refused to talk to her "stupid brother" for a night. I told Jon he was being silly and that he would always have a position in my household, or I'd create another holdfast for him. Bran took the opposite route, clinging to Jon as long as he could, following Jon, and telling Jon that he loved him and that Jon couldn't go. Then, the discussion was raised to Father, who shut it down by telling Jon that he had something "better" planned for him. Jon looked relieved, and no more word of Jon joining the Night's Watch would grace our doorstep. Uncle Benjen is the only Stark needed on the wall for now, and I'm glad he does so._

_Onto something important - Mother once again talked to me about betrothals. Since I am three-and-ten, I am about the age to be betrothed, which is something I had protested at first, until she raised an interesting name: yours. We have been exchanging letters for a long time, and I feel as though I, and House Stark, know you very well. Mother said that even if you were a Southern Lady, you had the spirit of a Northern Lady, and that if I wanted to be betrothed to you, Father and Mother would make plans to appease the Northern Lords. She said it was a good thing that you and I were of similar enough stations, as we were compatible politically, as well as with one another. I know you like having a choice in the matter, and Father and Mother said that they would defer to my decision on the matter. I won't bring it up again if you don't want it - we will always be dear friends, but the thought of spending my life getting to know you and ruling Winterfell with you fills me with hope._

_Yours,_

_Robb_

_P.S.: You look wonderful in your locket painting._

* * *

Late 295

_Robb_

_You cannot spring such an offer at the end of a letter like that - of course I would like to be betrothed to you, you great lump! Now the flow of my letter is all messed up! I told Father about the contents in the letter, and he smiled, and began to prattle about how he would send the letter, and negotiate with Lord Stark about the dowry - I imagine it will be sizeable, to appease any Northern bannermen discontent with the match, and appease their grumbling about a Southern Lady possibly becoming the future Lady of Winterfell. Of course, this is all prattling about politics - we actually have to be betrothed first, and if things go wrong (which I doubt), we will always still be dear friends. The thought of you as a husband, though, fills me with joy, as I know that you will not seek to limit me, and I will not be some useless lady or some stranger you do not know - instead, we would be equals, building a better North and a better Westeros together._

_Garlan is mildly upset about the whole thing, since Leonette was not of his station, according to Father and Grandmother, but at this point, Gar has managed to mostly move on from his feelings for Leonette. Gar still complains about being Lord of Highgarden, and how Willas would be better at this than him, but Garlan the Gallant does as best as he can without complaint. On the other hand, though, knowing that my likelihood of fostering somewhere is very soon, I am spending as much time with Mother, Father, Garlan, and Grandmother as possible. Loras is still with Lord Renly as his squire, except Lord Renly and Loras are in King's Landing. I have not visited King's Landing in my lifetime, but Garlan and Willas said they had before the Rebellion, and that the only thing they remember is that the shit smelled from maybe 10 miles away. Mother seems to really appreciate my presence, and Grandmother has proceeded to turn this into a challenge of learning about Northern politics, which was something I was not even aware she had known. Her knowledge was spotty, she admitted, but she wanted me prepared for anything and everything to better protect our family, and grow strong._

_I am glad to hear about your first big project. Most heirs, at three-and-ten, seem to spend all their time on the tiltyard, but it's good to involve yourself in these long term projects, or so grandmother says. The "sororities" are doing well, and Septa Nysterica had the brilliant idea to connect this project with the Faith, so noble ladies are doing charitable work with the Faith within the Reach, and within other regions, improving their own social status, as well as the status of the places where charitable work is done! Of course, all of these ladies are heavily guarded, and the smallfolk love the idea. Somehow, it all got attributed to me as the inventor, so it is a nice project, though I will have to transfer the project to Talla Tarly when I leave, as Loras's betrothed. To be honest, I don't think Loras much likes Talla, which is a shame, but they are to be married, and after that, Talla can seek her independent life._

_It's also good to hear that Jon is not going to the Night's Watch. I will promise you this: if we are to be betrothed, Jon will always have a place in our household, if we don't find a nice holdfast for him. As your brother, and as someone clearly loyal to you, it is important to choose those relationships carefully. Of course, as an option to be a member of Sansa's kingsguard, I'm not sure if Jon wants his holdfast when Sansa can charm him into protecting her. It would be good for her to have a sworn shield, honestly._

_Send all my love to your family, and I hope that the next letter I receive, we will be betrothed!_

_Yours,_

_Margaery_

_P.S. Your next sibling is going to be a boy, once again. That's my bet, at least._

* * *

Early 296: Two letters

_Margaery,_

_Mother gave birth to a boy, Rickon, no later than a moonturn after I received your letter. I had a lot of fun rubbing this in Jon and Theon's face, and Arya, Bran, and I celebrated Rickon's birth. It was a difficult birth, and it lasted a long while, but with Maester Luwin's help, it managed to work out._

_This letter is short, for I have sent two letters, one for Lord Mace to give you if we are to be betrothed, one for Lord Mace to give you if we are not to be betrothed. To be honest, I am hoping very strongly for the former, but regardless, I will always be a dear friend to you._

_Yours,_

_Robb_

_P.S.: How on earth did you guess right again? At least I also managed to get it right._

_\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------_

_Margaery,_

_If you are receiving this letter, we are to be betrothed! I am filled with absolute joy at the thought of spending the rest of my life with my best friend and love, and I expect that when Father tells me the news, I will be the happiest man in my life. I have always known that you and I are connected, and to be your partner as we make it through life's journey together is a luckness. I promise you I will not seek to limit you, and I will strive to be the best husband possible for you, my love._

_Father said that haggling with Lord Mace was difficult, but I assume that if this letter is the one you are handed, both Father and Lord Mace have come to agreeable terms. Father also said that Northern betrothals must be made in response, to sooth the blow of a Southern lady as another Lady of Winterfell, and to that end, Father had a few ravens for a few betrothals ready to be sent in the case that Mace Tyrell agreed, that I thought I should inform you about, as my future Lady Wife._

_Firstly, Domeric Bolton, the heir of the Dreadfort, to Arya. Father says that Sansa needs to be betrothed to someone else, and that Roose Bolton would most likely agree and be comfortable in waiting on a longer betrothal._

_Secondly, Bran with one of the Manderlys. The Manderlys were kicked out of the Reach, after all, and the Manderlys only have female heirs who need a male consort, much like your brother, Willas._

_There's not a "Thirdly", but I have a feeling that Father has some kind of plan for Jon that he's been waiting to reveal until the right moment._

_Father finally told me that if the betrothal was accepted, you would most likely come to foster in Winterfell in about six to eight moonturn. Therefore, there's not much else I will need to say, as we will meet one another in person._

_Love,_

_Your Robb_

* * *

Mid-Late 296

_Robb,_

_We are betrothed! We are betrothed! I am writing this letter frantically, before Mother and Grandmother begin the escort to Winterfell for my fostering, and for my move to our home, forever. Words cannot express the excitement or happiness that I feel, to be promised to you for the rest of my life. Margaery Tyrell of House Stark has never sounded sweeter, and I look forward to meeting your family and bonding with them, as well as spending the rest of my life in your presence. I hope you don't mind reading, because I have a lot of books!_

_Packing is a bit of a disaster, but Mother promised me that clothing and the like would be supplied up North. Willas and Arianne sent their congratulations - they noted that it was a long time coming, and I could not be happier for noted that her brother Quentyn has apparently gone to the Free Cities with their Uncle Oberyn. I am not entirely sure why a boy of five and ten needs to go to the Free Cities, but Arianne says they are making some kind of progress around Essos. What they are looking for, I know not, but I have some theories that I will explain in person._

_I had to hand over the reins of my "sorority" to Talla, but they have done such good work that I will miss them dearly! Only Megga and Elinor are coming North with me, as my ladies-in-waiting, but perhaps after awhile I can make some good betrothals and send them South._

_Some more news: Sam has been betrothed to a daughter of Lord Rowan! Quite the surprise, but Grandmother pointed out that there was no need for him to be tied to a Tyrell with Loras already betrothed to Talla. Even if they do not like each other overmuch, I think they will do what needs to be done. Thank the Seven that we do not have to deal with that._

_I would write more and more, but we are to see each other in person in about two moons anyways. See you soon, my love!_

_Love,_

_Your Margaery_


	8. MARGAERY VI

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Margaery travels to Winterfell, and takes a few stops along the way, before she meets her betrothed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Margaery's introduction to Winterfell comes with some important conversations, a little world-building, some naivety about Westeros, and of course, some Robbaery cuteness. Right now, we are roughly at the beginning of 297 AC, which means there is about a year until Robert comes to Winterfell, and 1-3 chapters until we end up smack dab in the canon plotline.
> 
> I'm really glad you all are enjoying it, and I will try to reply as best as I can without spoiling the plot. I hope you all enjoy!

**MARGAERY VI**

Traveling across Westeros sucked. Like, absolutely, positively _sucked_. Coming from a modern world, I was not used to long travel that lasted for months, and unlike the trip to Sunspear, which involved some time on a ship, we had to traverse pretty much the entire Roseroad and the entire Kingsroad in order to get to Winterfell.

I usually had either a choice between riding on a horse (which, I could do, but it would, of course, tire me out), or sit in a wheelhouse with Mother and Grandmother, most of the time involving Grandmother sniping at something or another. The roads were also bumpy and there would be moments where the entire convoy was stopped because one of the wheels broke, or something like that.

We stopped in King's Landing after about a moon, and I had some time to reunite with Loras, and meet Renly for the first time, while we were in King's Landing. My brother looked supremely awkward during the visit around Renly, even though he was normally warm and friendly.

Renly and Loras were….close. They were very unsubtle about their romance to anyone with a functioning gaydar, like I did. Don't get me wrong, it was adorable to watch them lean into one another and give each other longing stares when they thought nobody else was looking, but man, they were very clearly gay for one another in the "soulmates" way. It was a little creepy, considering that my brother was four-and-ten, and Renly was nine-and-ten, kind of like those high school senior and high school freshman romances, but I couldn't exactly judge, seeing as I was about to marry Robb Stark.

Poor Loras tried to do everything he could to play off his "friendship" with Renly as a deep admiration around Mother, Grandmother, and I, but I'm pretty sure Grandmother noticed, at least. Of course, Loras could also never hide anything from me, so the night before we left King's Landing and began our travel up the Kingsroad, I flagged him for a private conversation.

* * *

"Loras, as your sweet sister, I just wanted to ask if everything was alright with you and Lord Renly. I've noticed something about the two of you-" I began.

Loras's face colored rapidly, his eyes darting between the door and me, as if he was trying to calculate how quickly he could escape the conversation. Loras stammered something unintelligible, and tried to leave, but I grabbed his arm and fixed him a Look.

"Dear brother, you will sit on this bed with me and We Will Talk about this, because I am your sweet, sweet sister, and you wouldn't want me to cry before I leave you for Winterfell forever, would you?" I practically sing-songed. Loras sighed very deeply, and complied with my directions. It was time to give Loras a coming-out talk, and support him, even if we were in a medieval era where gay marriage wasn't possible.

"Alright, Loras. I'm going to first start off this conversation by saying that no matter who you are, who you love, or what you do, I will always love you, and I am having this conversation in order to best support you in any way that I can." I started. One of the perks of being reborn from a modern era was simply more comfort with these sort of difficult conversations. Loras looked at me quietly before squeezing my hand, letting me continue.

"Okay, in order to make this conversation less awkward for the both of us, I will start by asking a few questions, and you will either nod or shake your head." I stated. Loras nodded quietly.

"First, are Lord Renly and you together? Does he, ah, warm your bed at night?" I asked.

Nod.

"Second, did Lord Renly coerce you in any way to share his bed?

Shake.

"Did you consent-," I emphasized the word consent here, for obvious reasons,"-to this relationship?"

Loras's cheeks flushed very red, and he looked away, embarrassed, before nodding.

"Third, do you love Lord Renly?"

Nod.

"Finally, does Lord Renly treat you the way you deserve to be treated?"

Fierce nodding.

I smiled. "Good, good. Now, I definitely don't have to be the person to tell you that sword-swallowing is okay...but that in Southern houses, like ours, you usually keep it under wraps. It's not as though Lords need to bed their Lady Wives often if they do not want to, if only for producing heirs-" and at that, he rolled his eyes, "-but either way, you and Lord Renly can both have this. Be honest to Talla. If you and Talla are able, produce an heir-"

Loras's face widened in horror. Well, I fucked up. Time to fix this, before he really thinks I'm not on Team Loras.

"-you don't have to, Loras, you know that," I backpedaled hurriedly, "-but Talla does also deserve her fair shot as well, and if necessary, we can annul the betrothal or find some other way to please Lord Tarly if it is that serious of an issue." I finished.

Loras sighed. He opened his mouth. "Sweet sister, I know what my duty is, and I will do my duty if needed. Renly will most likely stay at Storm's End or Kings's Landing, and I will stay with him there. Talla will understand, she will spend most of her time on your sororities anyways."

He continued. "I have not talked to Talla, and I'm unsure how to tell her-," and with that, tears dripped out of his eyes. "-that I am a sword swallower." I grabbed him in a hug, and held him fiercely, letting him cry on my shoulder.

"There is nothing wrong with you, Loras," I whispered softly. "It is not as though you could control who the Seven chose for you to love, and if any man or woman says difference, I will defend you until my dying breath." His breathing stopped for a second, as he hiccuped softly. "I know that it is a bit strange for me to say such things, but you could not control your love for men no more than I could. Now, you know that I will always support you in these things. If Renly ever mistreats you, you know full well you can make your way up North and recover by having another man warm your bed for the rest of our days. Robb will understand, or at least, I will persuade him to."

Loras had stopped crying at this point, and he released me, and let out a shaky laugh.

"Oh Margaery. I love you. You know that, right?" Loras murmured softly.

"Of course I do, I love you too!" I replied, happily. "Now, if I'm not your favorite sibling after all of this-"

We broke out into hearty laughter, the "laugh-your-guts-out" kind of laugh, before curling up in my bed as we had as kids. Mother and Grandmother would not find it very unusual, and Loras could leave after I fell asleep anyways.

"Now, Loras," I said conspiratorially. "Did I get to tell you about Willas and Arianne's latest visit?"

* * *

Travel on the Kingsroad was harsher than travel on the Roseroad, and of course, the amount of taverns we stopped at to rest were frankly ridiculous. The further North we went, the colder it got, which is when I had to start changing into my Northern-style dresses, with heavy fabric. With most of my time in the wheelhouse, especially in the colder weather, I had a lot of time to think about the changes that were made that I knew of.

One, with the Willas-Arianne marriage, it was almost certain that Viserys would lose a head in the near future in order to place Daenerys on the Throne. Poor Viserys - he just wasn't needed for any Iron Throne restoration plots when his sister was readily available for the plots. I'm betting that Quentyn and Prince Oberyn were looking for Viserys and Daenerys, but from what I knew, they were on the streets, so this will either be very successful, or yield them nothing. They would also have to be very careful to avoid detection and reporting from King Robert's assassins, or else, risk disturbing the peace. Father really made a brilliant move, suggesting that marriage, and Willas and Arianne were both certainly happy, but time would tell whether this peace would last.

Two, Tywin Lannister was completely locked by the alliances, which was a GOOD thing for the inevitable War of the Five Kings. I knew that Tywin Lannister would not rest until House Lannister was the most powerful of all of the houses, and with these set of alliances, I knew Sansa and Joffrey were pretty much inevitably going to be betrothed, though I wonder what other moves he would make to keep himself protected, though we were at a time of peace right now.

Third, and most importantly, Robb. I had exchanged many letters with him, got to know him well, and he requested a betrothal with me, himself! I spent a lot of time thinking about my future husband's character, or what his family was like (because I definitely knew I had changed something in those dynamics), or what I would need to do to integrate into the North. What if Robb didn't like the person I was? What if Lady Catelyn thought I was a manipulative shrew? What would happen as we approached the beginning of the Series? It wasn't exactly rational, but still, I worried.

Eventually, we entered the North, and made our way towards Winterfell. Mother and Grandmother complained a bit about the snow, and how cold it was, but the closer and closer I got to what would be my new home. Travel from King's Landing took about a moon, as per canon, and before I knew it, I was staring at the walls of Winterfell.

* * *

When my eyes first truly landed upon Winterfell, I felt as though I was in a dream. Thick, stone gates filled my vision, and summer snow, dotting atop its tallest towers. It wasn't as large as Highgarden, nor the stone as new, but there was a conveyance of...majesty, when I looked at the towers. This was a castle truly fit for a Winter King and a Winter Queen, a commanding tower that seemed to whisper of its indomitability, and timelessness.

In my past life, I had studied abroad in Northern Europe, and went to university up in the Northern U.S., where there had been a lot of snow. Winters were harsh there, and six months out of the year, the sun set very early at night and snow would cover the ground. Winter seemed brutal where I was, but my only thought seeing Winterfell was that it would be even worse here. Had I visited Russia in my past life, this would be it - the cold tower, with the even colder men, and the frozen Ice King and Ice Queen with dominion over all of the people. The gates opened, and there I was, in the keep. It would be mayhaps a minute or two until I would meet my betrothed and his family for the first time.

The wheelhouse dragged on, making a stop at the courtyard. As I approached the courtyard, I saw guardsmen lying about, and a few interesting people. First, a dark haired man with a long face, bearded, and ruggedly handsome - Lord Stark, and a beautiful red-haired woman, holding a newborn, standing next to a very handsome teenager with auburn hair, his face unbearded, and I knew then that it was my Robb. His eyes conveyed nervousness and excitement as he stared at the wheelhouse, and I don't think he noticed me looking through the window in his nervousness. Next to him was what I assumed to be the rest of his family - a black haired teenager with a pretty face and a brooding expression, a beautiful, red haired preteen who seemed to be growing into her growth spurt, a little dark-haired slip of a girl with a curious expression, and a small boy with auburn hair, excitedly pointing at the various knights.

I grabbed the hem of my sleeves self-consciously, as I prepared myself for the meeting. It was happening for real. Mother looked at me fidgeting, reassuringly holding my hand, and I squeezed her hand. She smiled at me and purposely stared out of the wheelhouse, winking, and a rosy blush painted my cheeks.

The wheelhouse rolled, and came to a gentle stop at the courtyard. Arryk and Erryk (affectionately known as Left and Right), moved from their positions in front of the wheelhouse to open the doors. I heard Grandmother mutter to Mother, "well, best get on with it, then," as she grabbed Left's hand. She stepped out, helped by Left, and Right handed her the cane she normally used, and put her feet on the ground, with summer snow.

My cheeks turned redder in possibly both nervousness and or stage fright, at the thought of meeting my future good-family. I knew it wasn't rational, given how nice I knew they were, but my nervousness flared up and showed on my cheeks. Mother smiled reassuringly at me as she gracefully exited the wheelhouse, approaching Lady Stark, and I grabbed the train of my poofy wool dress as I exited the wheelhouse, and stepped into the cold.

Robb looked as though he had been struck mute and dumb when he stared at me appreciatively. A dreamy smile fell on his face as he made eye contact with me, and I looked down self-consciously, feeling my face heat up at the attention of a handsome teenager. Damn my inability to hold eye contact - it was a trait that I had shared with my past life, and I suppose something in my genetics worked as I peeked up to his red face as well. Jon whispered something to Sansa and she giggled. God, this meeting was awkward. Did I braid my hair correctly this morning?

"Lady Tyrell, welcome to Winterfell." Lord Stark greeted solemnly, the perfect picture of a Northern lord.

"We thank you for your hospitality, Lord Stark," Mother replied graciously. "I am pleased to introduce you to my good-mother, the Lady Olenna Tyrell-" and at that, Grandmother looked neutrally at the crowd, obviously scanning for something "-and my lovely daughter, the Lady Margaery Tyrell," she finished. I curtsied in the same way as I was taught, and looked awkwardly at the boy I wanted to hug. Should I go for it? Do I wait until we're alone? What was the protocol, again?

Lady Catelyn interjected, smiling. "Allow me to introduce you to my children," she offered. "To my left, my son, Robb-"

I'm pretty sure he was spaced out because he kept smiling that damnable smile that made my heart flutter a bit. Focus, you. You are Margaery Tyrell, and you do not stop for any man, I chastised myself.

"-and my newborn son, Rickon Stark." Lady Catelyn finished. Evidently I had spaced out through the introductions.

We stood there for a moment, until Grandmother looked at me.

"Go on then, little rose, go greet your betrothed, or have I been raising a mute?" Grandmother snapped, and started walking to Lord Stark. Damn it, Grandmother.

I walked quietly to Robb, and planned to curtsy in front of my betrothed, as proper, but Robb swept me into a hug the moment we were close enough. He was a head taller than me, at this point, and at almost four-and-ten, his arms felt strong and firm, clearly from time in the tiltyard, and I hugged him back fiercely, as best as I could.

"Hi." he whispered softly. This was not a stranger, this was Robb - the same Robb I had written to so affectionately; the same Robb who was kind, and good, and honorable; and the same Robb I had fallen for, somewhat, in writing my letters. I buried my face into his chest as we hugged one another for I don't know how long, my response to him unintelligible, until I heard a "WHAP!" of Grandmother's cane. I felt a kiss to my hair, which left me blushing, but I reluctantly let my new betrothed go. I once again stared deeply into his eyes, with him in mine, before realizing I had to make a move on, so I looked down at the ground, my face flaming until I stood next to Jon.

"Be welcome, good-sister," Jon teased me merrily, as I curtsied to him, my face red in embarrassment. Jon looked happy, included with his siblings and family in such an important introduction. Was Jon actually Lord Stark's bastard in this world, or the son of Rhaegar and Lyanna, as in show canon? Though Jon looked similar to Lord Stark, if I seriously looked, I could see differences in their looks that did not correspond, such as Jon's shade of hair, a lighter black, or Jon's eyes, a deep blue that could be mistaken for black or indigo in the light. His looks were especially Stark-like, but they definitely differed in a way that made him...prettier, but only if you knew what to look for.

Sansa giggled, and as I moved towards her, I was surprised to see that we were near the same height, despite our age difference. Sansa smiled at me, and we both kissed each other's cheek, as sisters usually do in the South.

"I have heard so much about you, Lady Margaery! Welcome to Winterfell!" Sansa chirped happily. Arya looked at me evaluatively, seeming kind of bored.

"So THIS is the Lady Margaery Robb has been talking about," Arya stated bluntly. "I hope you like snow - it gets too cold for a lot of people."

I smiled. It was just like dealing with Grandmother.

"So THIS is the Lady Arya Robb has been talking about," I parroted. "The next Queen Visenya, I hear!"

Arya grinned savagely, a look that should not be on any girl of seven. She'd fit in damn well with the Boltons.

"You're not as stupid as Sansa-" ("Arya, really!" Sansa complained) "-so I guess you're okay." Arya declared. Test passed, I suppose.

Bran took that opportunity to run up to me.

"Do you know a lot of knights?" Bran asked, excitedly. "I do!" I responded happily. "Mayhaps I will be able to introduce you to some more, like my brothers." Finally, there was Lady Catelyn, who looked fondly at the antics of her five children.

I approached her and baby Rickon, and my goodness, that was an adorable baby. I curtsied to her, as she began to speak.

"Be welcome, Lady Margaery. I am pleased to welcome you to Winterfell," Lady Catelyn said, smiling pleasantly. Baby Rickon reached out his arm at me, babbling, and I cooed a little over him.

"You must have had a long trip through the Kingsroad," Lord Stark began. "Jory, please escort the Tyrell household to their quarters. We will feast in the great hall tonight to celebrate the arrival of my son's betrothed."

I am sure that my son and Lady Margaery would like some time alone, as well. Septa Mordane, please follow Robb and Margery as an escort to the Godswood." Lady Stark added. Mother winked at me as she went to talk to Lady Catelyn, and Robb needed no further encouragement as he grabbed my hand and went to the Godswood.

* * *

The Godswood of Winterfell was very peaceful, though I will admit that I felt like I was being watched by a presence as we sat on a bench near the Heart Tree.

"Hi," Robb repeated quietly, looking at me, as he held out an arm that I happily snuggled into.

"Sorry if our meeting was awkward," I said, somewhat bashfully. "I wasn't sure how to react when I first met you, as my betrothed Winterfell is so gorgeous though."

Robb laughed, and hugged me a bit tighter.

"It may not compare to Highgarden, but it is my home, and soon, your home as well," Robb replied.

"That it will be," I agreed happily. "Did I get to tell you that I had an awkward conversation with Loras in King's Landing?"

Robb shook his head.

"You did say that you were going to tell me everything when you arrived, my love," Robb answered good-naturedly, "-and it appears that it hasn't happened yet."

"There's so much I have to tell you about, Robb," I murmured. "Of course, starting with the fact that meeting you in person has been better than anything I have ever dreamed of, but I'm sure you already know that…"

"I don't know, my lady, you looked down at the ground quite a bit with your pretty pink cheeks," Robb japed, causing both of us to laugh. After we laughed a bit, we continued to talk about travel and other little things.

Talking with Robb was fascinating. One of my favorite things about Robb was that he was the type of person who meant what he said and said what he meant. He was very grounded, and very determined at his age, even if he japed a bit, and I marveled at how easy it was to talk to him and honestly receive an answer which showed that he had been thinking about something I had said and mulling it over in his mind.

Another of my favorite things about Robb was that he was practical and knew exactly what was needed in what situations. He was the kind of person that you could go to in a time of trouble (as I suspected Sansa or his other siblings did), and he would cover for you, and resolve the problem practically and easily. This contrasted well with my "head-in-the-clouds" mentality.

The other big thing about Robb? He was a total Gryffindor. He was honorable, and clearly cared a lot for others, but he was the type of person to think in absolutes, either good or bad, and had the type of naivety of someone who had never played the Game of Thrones. He didn't exactly struggle politically, but he thought the best of different players, and could not comprehend why they were driven the way that they were. As a total Slytherin, it was good to see his philosophies balanced with mine.

Don't get me wrong, that wasn't a bad thing, for someone that he trusted and cared for, but at the same time, I could see where I could help him, and where he could help me. Robb oozed trustworthiness and stability, and he was optimistic to a fault. I would round him out with some cunning, perspective, and future planning, to make sure that we kept both of our heads, and we would be equals, I swore it.

"-and that was how Sansa and I would have handled the Dance of Dragons." Robb explained. We had spent hours catching one another up on our lives, and I had pulled Robb into a discussion of the political problems his Lady Mother taught him. Septa Mordane approached us, looking pretty cold. Whoops.

"Lady Margaery, Robb, supper time is soon," Septa Mordane said. "Lady Margaery, you had best go to your room to change into more comfortable clothes for supper. I will show you to your room."

Robb grinned.

"See you at supper, my lady," he simply stated, kissing me on the forehead before he left. I followed Septa Mordane, and that was that.


	9. MARGAERY VI

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Margaery adapts to the cold North, faces her first moonblood, and proceeds to go on an grand Northern Tour.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is more or less a set-up chapter, working with Margaery's time in the North, advancing some plot, and of course, setting up The Northern Tour...though, smaller than expected, because Ned Stark's already done some of the work for them! My updates after this will probably be a little less frequent, but I'm hoping that I can get a weekly chapter in, since I really do enjoy writing this! I hope you enjoy the chapter, and as usual, let me know what you think!

**MARGAERY VII**

Two months into living into the North had truly convinced me that Northern culture was different from Southern culture. There were a lot of things that definitely struck me as unique about the North, as opposed to the South, and I spent a lot of time really getting to know the land I was due to rule alongside Robb in the future.

First, Northern culture was definitely more cooperative than competitive. Don't get me wrong, Northern intrigues still existed, just like in canon, but in the North, with winter as harsh as it was, all hands on deck were needed to survive, and people up North needed to abide by a more "familial" kind of culture. Many stories about the North would reference one family member dying for the sake of the whole unit, and Northern customs, such as the custom where if a family ran low on food, and could not provide for the elderly, the elderly were encouraged to "go hunting", and saw it as an honor to sacrifice themselves to maintain the whole unit.

That was part and parcel as to why guest right was so important in the North, and why Robb's death in canon was such a betrayal to the Northmen. Oh, sure, guest right WAS important in the South, and nobody wants to break guest right, for fear of their name being cursed forever, but in the North, guest right is absolutely sacred, and breaking it was anathema to any Northerner, more so then it was to a Southerner. Northerners broke bread and salt and faced the harsh winters together, and that notion seemed to carry itself into our personal lives.

Second, Northern culture had a very personal feel to it. Worshipping the Old Gods was personal - when you were in the presence of the Godswood, you were partaking in the act of worship, rather than the very complex rituals the Faith required you go through to actively worship. Personal action for the sake of others were worth more than anything else - for instance, the reason why the man "passing the sentence" would swing the sword is because it was a personal form of recognition of justice. Lying was unacceptable in the North, unless it was for the sake of those you needed to protect, and most importantly, _The North Remembers_.

Any sort of grudge that a Northerner invoked on you would be remembered, and the North would exact their price in the future. If you betrayed a Northerner and kept them or their house alive, it was pretty much guaranteed that they would exact their revenge on you after licking their wounds, such as in canon, with the many plots to oust House Bolton after the Red Wedding. In the South? Well, there would be grudges, but only based on personal advantage, which meant that, for instance, if House Baratheon had married into House Tyrell, House Tyrell's grudge would have disappeared, or been "resolved" in the face of the advantage both houses could get, or when it was untenable for both parties. That was why Southerners participated in political intrigue all the time - it was guaranteed to disappear in a generation or two if there was advantage to be found in dissolving the grudge if both parties stood to tangibly benefit from it.

All of my time in Winterfell so far was spent doing a couple of things: inhaling the library stock of knowledge about the North to catch myself up (Robb japed that he may need to ask the servants to send food to the library if I kept myself there any longer), spending time with Lady Catelyn learning about her duties and watching her run the household (much like an intern in my last life), and spending time with the other Stark siblings through whatever mandatory lessons we had, such as embroidery or learning with the Maester.

As an extension of my time down South, Lady Catelyn allowed me to sit in on her "political intrigue" lessons with Robb and Sansa, and was given the same puzzles that Robb and Sansa were expected to resolve. Along the way, when Lady Catelyn wasn't available, this turned into instances where I got to teach my husband-to-be and Sansa more about Southern politics and help them with their futures.

Discreetly.

* * *

"Robb, Sansa, what House has the greatest influence over Westeros at this point in time? I don't mean financially, I mean in terms of influences over the decisions of the other houses in Westeros, and the future of Westeros at this point in time."

Robb and Sansa scrunched their noses in a manner that absolutely showed their sibling resemblance. After a moment, Robb responded, but Sansa looked deep in thought still.

"House Baratheon? They control King's Landing and rule the Seven Kingdoms, so they must be the most influential house." Robb responded. That was my handsome husband-to-be, intelligent, but far too literal, and unaware of the intrigues hidden underneath.

"Wrong." I replied, smiling at him. "Sansa?"

"Erm- House Lannister? King Robert married Queen Cersei, and she is of House Lannister, so mayhaps they have the most influence, because they can influence the King?" Sansa explained her reasoning, hesitantly.

"Wrong." I replied, to the shocked looks on both of their faces. "Let me explain myself then." I pulled over a piece of paper that handily had a mockup of the Seven Kingdoms, to gesture at while I explained.

"To start off this explanation, at the end of Robert's Rebellion, four Great Houses would create an alliance that would topple House Targaryen and the Mad King. Robb, which houses were those?"

"Houses Stark, Tully, Baratheon, and-" Robb paused, thinking. "-and House Arryn!" Robb finished, confidently.

"Good work, Robb!" I rewarded my betrothed with a kiss on his cheek. He blushed, and Sansa giggled, before I moved back to my side of the table to continue my explanation.

"Robb is correct. Those four Great Houses would eventually topple the Mad King, and would be joined by House Lannister at the conclusion of Robert's Rebellion. Sansa, which arrangements were used to ensure these alliances were made?"

"Mother was originally betrothed to Uncle Brandon, but married Father instead; Aunt Lysa would marry Jon Arryn, the Hand of the King; and King Robert was married to Cersei Lannister after Aunt Lyanna's death." Sansa primly answered. "Jon Arryn also fostered Father and King Robert, and they became the best of friends in the Vale."

"Very good, Sansa!" I replied, beaming at her. That knowledge would serve her well down South, and I could see her memorization of heraldry and impressive brain shining through here.

"Now, a few Houses wrongly sided with the Mad King during Robert's Rebellion, which were House Tyrell and House Martell. House Greyjoy stayed neutral during Robert's Rebellion, only to rebel nine years later. Now, has anything changed in that point of time?"

"Well, of course, you and Robb were betrothed, Margaery, tying House Stark to House Tyrell-," Sansa began, and Robb's eyes gleamed. He was starting to catch on.

"-and House Tyrell bound itself to House Martell through Willas's marriage with Lady Arianne!" Robb finished excitedly.

I gestured at the piece of paper, writing down the houses in alliance.

"Marriage bonds in alliance are always stronger than alliances through fostering, as Lady Catelyn explained to us in the last session. If this holds true, which Houses are more closely tied?" I asked.

"Well, Mother. Father, Jon Arryn, and Aunt Lysa would tie House Stark, Tully, and Arryn together, alongside the eventual marriage between you and I, Margaery, that would add House Tyrell, and by extension, House Martell, to the list, with Willas's marriage to Lady Arianne," Robb answered.

Sansa's eyes narrowed, staring very intently at the map and list of houses, before her eyes widened in realization and her face made an "O".

"OH- but King Robert is only tied to Queen Cersei in marriage, which means that they're alone unless they can unite their children with children from any of the other Great Houses! So House Baratheon must formally ally itself with House Stark, in order to tie themselves to the alliance, and ally themselves with the most Great Houses possible - otherwise, they are alone!" Sansa explained, connecting the dots.

"That is why House Stark, despite not even engaging with the King's Court, in King's Landing, is the most influential House politically in the Seven Kingdoms." I explained. "Say House Greyjoy, for some unfathomable reason, decided to invade the North. House Stark could call on their banners, but also call upon the forces of the Riverlands, Reach, Vale, and possibly even Dorne to absolutely annihilate House Greyjoy. What does that tell you about marriage alliances, and political power in the South?"

"Marriages matter a lot?" Robb japed. I laughed openly at that, but nodded my head.

"Yes, my love, marriages DO matter a lot," I started, looking at Robb fondly. My face then grew serious, and I continued. "BUT- it also means that any marriages formally tie you to that House, for good or for ill, and that it is important to make sure that your House is making the correct marriage for stability. Not only that, it makes it doubly important to be informed of the comings and goings of the House you are married into, because if you marry incorrectly, and the House you are married to is allied to some undesirable House, then you go down with the House, or if a scandal occurs within a House, it may be better to marry into a safer House instead," I elaborated.

"Which means that if I am to be Queen, I would want to make sure that the marriage between myself and Prince Joffrey is the right choice, because if I don't, I could make life difficult for Father, Mother, Robb, and you." Sansa noted. "I doubt that is the case though, the Seven Kingdoms are stable, and I will be presiding over the Seven Kingdoms as Princess- no, Queen Sansa Stark of House Baratheon!"

Robb rolled his eyes. When Sansa got into her ramblings about being Queen, nothing could stop her.

"Sansa, listen carefully-" I stated, making her pause from her burgeoning monologue about Queenship. "Before your marriage, you are not tied to your betrothed's House, so be very careful. Southern intrigue is very real, and some Southern houses are not as honorable or kind as the songs make them out to be. It is better to be prepared for the possibility of not being married, than to lose yourself in the fantasy. You can do as many things as you would like as Queen, but you must be married into the House and as Queen first, otherwise, you could damage yourself and your own House into the process." I cautioned her, thinking about her fate in the Series. "I would certainly rather not hear any stories about my good-sister being poorly treated in King's Landing from Winterfell, and Robb is sure to agree, lest we rise our banners to protect you."

Robb nodded. Sansa paused, looking kind of sheepish, before standing up from the table and hugging me.

"Thank you, sister, I will do my best to be careful." Sansa whispered into my ear, before perking up again.

"Now, let us go to the kitchens and see if there are any lemon cakes or cheese cakes we can request! I am tired of studying." Sansa exclaimed cheerily, dragging Robb to stand up from the table. Robb grinned, and held my hand, sending butterflies shooting down my spine, as we allowed Sansa to escort us down to the kitchens for a well-deserved break.

* * *

Of course, my arrival in the North also meant that I had time to begin developing and honing a skill I knew would be absolutely essential to my survival in the Series, and something my husband-to-be would most certainly approve of. Lady Catelyn was a little more hesitant, speaking to me very frankly from a Southern lady to another, but I reminded her that ladies weren't always guaranteed to be safe, and it was better for us ladies to be prepared, than caught unawares, as I referenced Lady Lyanna or many other Southern ladies I had heard of during the years.

Lady Catelyn then arranged for some very basic lessons with the masters-at-arms using daggers that could be concealable for myself, Sansa, and a very eager Arya. Rodrik Cassel looked very taken aback, but we learned all the basic dagger holds, and the anatomy of the human body, such as where the artery was, and were very carefully supervised under Lady Catelyn as to what we were to learn, and how to conceal these daggers into our sleeves in case.

These lessons were stressed to only be a "last-minute" protection, and the note that we probably wouldn't need to use any of these with our household guard, but I honed those skills in private as well, to make sure I wasn't defenceless. Eventually, after a long trial and effort, I learned how to throw my knives into a target where I wanted them to land, and even if they were paltry and inefficient throws, perhaps the daggers would save my life one day. I'm pretty sure Arya caught me practicing at one point, but she said nothing to my face that indicated that she knew.

The routine of Winterfell roughly continued in the same manner, and I really got the time to bond with my family-to-be that I was really grateful about betrothing myself to Robb and joining the Starks. Robb and I stole quite a few quiet moments, and between him either napping in my lap as I read something in the library, or him, stealing me away to the Godswood where we could share a few kisses, our relationship developed in a very stable manner. Everything was roughly the same, until one morning, perhaps a moonturn after my four-and-tenth nameday, life changed rapidly.

* * *

Today was not a good day, and this morning was NOT a good morning. I woke up, and suddenly I felt as though I was dying. By the Seven, I need some sleep, but I couldn't, because my body felt like it was burning.

"Marge?" Robb's voice called out, hesitantly. "Are you awake? You missed us breaking our fast, and I brought you some food."

I groaned, still in pain. Robb muttered something, and opened the door. He brought down the food, and was about to lay it on my bedside table, before paling.

"My love? There's blood everywhere!" Robb exclaimed, panicking, as he held my hand. Oh shit. I guess that explains it. Now that I looked closer, my sheets were bloody, and my nightdress was definitely completely ruined.

"Call for Lady Catelyn, please," I said, my voice muffled under the covers as I proceeded to just want to die both out of embarrassment and out of pain, but some of it must have gone through, because he quickly kissed my forehead, squeezed my hand, before running out of the room, yelling: "MOTHER!"

I drifted in and out of sleep, and when I awoke, there was Lady Catelyn, holding a cup of warm honey tea, as she ordered for a bath to be drawn. I walked very unsteadily to the bath, and as I laid in the bath with my head against the edge of the tub, I sighed.

"I suppose this means I have flowered, then?" I asked quietly. "I am sorry for the inconvenience, Lady Catelyn."

"Oh sweetling, you could not control when these things occur, and it is always my pleasure to help," Lady Catelyn answered soothingly. "Yes, you have flowered, but you need not worry overmuch. All your lessons have been cancelled for the day, and you will rest."

Lady Catelyn then briefly explained whatever else I needed to know about that period of time that wasn't already covered by the Maester or Mother. I nodded through the explanation, and when the bath finished, I was helped up, and we moved to the bed, with the sheets replaced. I grasped at the cup of tea as if it were my lifeline.

"Will Robb and I marry, then?" I asked Lady Catelyn.

"Four-and-ten is young for a bride, but is this what you want?" Lady Catelyn asked, in return. "I flowered at roughly the same age, but only married after my maturity. There is no need to rush if you do not want to, we are in a peaceful time and Ned and I understand."

"I want to marry Robb." I said, in an-almost whisper. "I know I am a bit young, but I love your son, Lady Catelyn, and I want to be married to him as soon as possible, if that is alright with you and Lord Eddard?"

Lady Catelyn looked relieved, but she nodded quietly, smoothing her hand over my still-damp forehead.

"You let me take care of that, then. You just rest and relax, daughter. I will make the arrangements."

* * *

I spent the week going through my first moonblood before learning with Robb that our wedding would be announced midway through next year, around my five-and-tenth nameday. I would have roughly a year before I became the consort to the Heir of Winterfell, a future Lady of Winterfell in my own right, and perhaps nine to ten moonturns before Jon Arryn passed away, and the rest of our lives began.

Knowing that my wedding would be so soon, and knowing that I would need a lot more knowledge about the North in order to flourish here, inspired me to learn more. I raised up my concerns with Robb, and Lady Catelyn, drawing upon her experience as a Southern Lady transitioning up North. According to Lord Eddard, Robb was also due for some more practical experience, and so we were able to be given the allowance of time to take a brief trip to Deepwood Motte and Bear Island to explore the North in greater detail, before coming back to Winterfell.

Afterwards, as noted by Lady Catelyn, as part of Lord Eddard's work to soothe Northern lords, when we arrived back, Winterfell would also foster lordlings and ladies, such as Domeric Bolton, Gawen Glover, Harrion Karstark, and Alys Karstark, as part of the pre-wedding celebrations. I imagine that another reason was to pacify the Northern lords by giving them the chance to make their own betrothals, and give that generation some time with their future lord and their future lady.

So, about a little more than a moonturn after my moonblood, Robb and I, as well as some guards, and Jory Cassel, as a chaperone and guard, accompanied Robb and I on our horses as we began to ride to our first stop: the Deepwood Motte, and seat of House Glover.


	10. MARGAERY VIII

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Margaery tours a bit of the North, and deals with a cultural clash, and meanwhile, the Game of Thrones is played without her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the later update than expected - work and school have been a bit busier than usual, and I was stuck on a small writer's block, re: The Northern Tour! I've also been thinking of updating the titles as opposed to using a GRRM-esque one, but I'm not sure if that would be a good idea - thoughts?
> 
> I'll try to update more often, but for now, the Grand Northern Tour, some shit-talking, and set-up for more! Hope you all enjoy the chapter!

**MARGAERY VIII**

Deepwood Motte was not that impressive of a holdfast. Yes, I know, my Reacher sensibilities kind of hit there, but seriously, it was an old castle with wooden walls and a moat, at a location that was prone to attacks by sea and by Wildlings. It was vulnerable, and even if we were at a time of peace, it still bothered me how vulnerable Northern holdfasts were to attacks, despite the size of the North being roughly the same as the rest of the Seven Kingdoms combined. I knew very little about actually improving economic conditions other than the basics, but there was surely something I could do to strengthen my future lands and set the foundation for a prosperous future for the North.

Of course, I kept those thoughts to myself as Robb and I entered Deepwood Motte, and were greeted enthusiastically by Galbart Glover, the Master of Deepwood Motte, and the rest of the Glover family. We were to stay in Deepwood Motte for a sennight, and then make haste to Bear Island, in order to get some more exposure to the conditions of the actual North, including the side of the masterly House and the smallfolk beholden to it.

Dinner in Deepwood Motte was delicious, and very much in the analogue of Scandinavian countries, featured a heavy mix of bread, vegetables grown in harsher conditions, like potatoes and carrots, dipped in gravy with meats. Lord Glover chatted with Robb and I about the current state of the area, as well as any standard concerns that Lord Glover normally dealt with. Robb, engrossed in the conversation as he was, did not notice much of the reticence House Glover showed towards me, in the stilted replies or the dismissive looks that were sent by various members of the Glover household.

Of course, that was to be expected - I was a Southron woman who had not yet proven myself as a future lady of the North, and there was definitely a form of culture shock, where my dainty look and seemingly girlish sensibilities would have me dismissed as some fainting flower unable to handle a winter or the wilderness around them. In the North, every person is vital to the success of the household. With a Southron name, the only thing I appeared to bring to the table was my name and the Reach's dowry, which would arrive at a later date, alongside possibly suspect Southron sensibilities. Still, I resolved to prove myself as a future Lady of Winterfell, and of course, that would start by working within the North and taking stock of the challenges of the North.

Bright and early, the next morning, Robb and I would take a trip to a nearby farm which helped supply the oats and wheats to the area. I had no real advanced knowledge for farming from my last life, nor any more knowledge than a well-read Reachwoman in this life, but even I could see that the land was harsh and very unsustainable for farming, and that more sustainable soil or land would be needed for a more prosperous farm. Deepwood Motte was so resource rich in other areas that even with the cold, countries in my last life would be begging to develop here.

Beyond spending time at the farms, scouting the nearby lands, or spending time with Master Glover or his brother and wife, learning more about the ins and outs of life for one of our vassals, Robb and I got a chance to really dive into the lands we were one day going to rule, as well as plotting our shared vision of how to make the North more prosperous as a region. The North wasn't just a practical location politically for House Tyrell, but with time and direction, the North could be developed into a power of its own, and House Stark, as well as House Tyrell benefited from it.

The second half of the week continued much in the same way as the first, where Robb and I made the effort to go to any nearby Northern settlements and help the smallfolk, and to show our faces and bolster our reputations. Wearing a lovely blue dress that I didn't mind messing up, I made full use of my grandmother's lessons as I worked around the settlement, and talked to the smallfolk - repairing buildings, donating food and provisions to those who needed it, and learning about the North. The North was, first and foremost, a cooperative environment, and though I didn't expect Northerners to start singing me praises, perhaps my work here would help my reputation and ease the instinctive distrust of the Northmen I would eventually rule over.

One night, bolstered by all the work we had done, I decided to approach Robb for a conversation long overdue in our planning for the future: children.

* * *

"Robb?" I asked hesitantly.

Robb turned to me, and gestured to his bedside, our chaperone looking awkward as he stood in his required spot in the furthest corner of Robb's guest room, knowing he would essentially be eavesdropping on our conversation.

"Still not tired of me after a long day together, Marge?" Robb japed jovially. I gave him a nervous smile - I was springing this giant conversation on him after a long day - maybe there was a better time? After I sat at his bedside, we stared at each other, his eyes searching and my eyes awkward in their nervousness. Robb sighed, and sat up on his bedside, placing an arm around me.

"You've got something on your mind, then." Robb stated seriously. "You know I'm always here to listen, my love."

"Robb, today at supper, Lady Glover and I had a conversation about her two children while you were discussing Northern politics with Lord Glover, you remember?" I started.

Robb nodded, unsure where I was going with this.

"And so she was talking about her battle in the birthing bed for her infant, Erena, and how harsh it was and how it was worth it and she asked about what our children would look, and that had me thinking about-" I rambled on. Poor Robb looked as though he had been both expecting this moment and also had no idea what to do as my rambling got more detailed and I continued to avoid the question I really wanted to ask, but eventually he stopped me with a deep look that I couldn't help but blush over, his eyes so serious and intent.

"You worry about producing heirs and spares, as Septa Mordane puts it." Robb summarized calmly. Trust my Northerner to cut to the chase immediately. "Margaery, you know I wouldn't force you to do anything you did not want to, what's bringing this on?"

I had a mini-panic, as my muddied thoughts crystallized into worked-up ramblings. "I heard the servants of Winterfell talk about it out of my earshot, and of course, Septa Nysterica says that I have to provide heirs and spares, and with Lady Catelyn facing the birthing bed so often I-"

"Seven hells, is this what her moonbloods are like?" Robb muttered to himself, which did earn him a light punch on the arm from me, causing him to yelp and hurriedly backtrack with apologies. Eventually, though, I calmed down a bit more. Robb and I looked at one another, and he began to speak.

"My love, I'm certainly not going to force you to do anything you don't want to. We will have children when the Gods bless us with them, and we cannot control when that will be. If you would like me to send a Raven to Mother telling her to delay our wedding-"

"No!" I interjected quickly. "You know I want to marry you as soon as possible, Robb, nothing would make me happier, you know that, but I just-" I started " _-don't want to be giving birth to babies in the middle of the War of the Five Kings when I need to be helping my husband survive and win the Game of Thrones?_ " I thought, but of course, I couldn't say that because I wasn't supposed to know that. Keeping secrets from my partner was _annoying_.

"-want….to make sure I, uh….don't want to have a child too...early?" I finished, lamely. "The Maesters have studies showing that the younger a lady is, the more dangerous the birthing bed is for her, I remember that from my reading!"

Robb gave me a look, like he knew something was up, but he didn't choose to press on it. He forged on admirably, about as much as you can when your significant other is panicking in front of you.

"We need not have a child until we are both ready - we are barely three-and-ten ourselves." Robb noted calmly, and Robb stared at me tenderly, holding my gaze. After a long moment, Robb pressed his forehead to mine, and began to speak.

"I will not risk you to any force that could take you away from me, no less the birthing bed, if you are not ready." Robb whispered softly.

I looked at my husband-to-be tenderly, our faces, so close to one another that we could feel the heat underneath the other's skin. I'm sure the affection showing on both of our faces would make any of our siblings turn away in disgust. Eventually, I decided to reward Robb with a nice kiss, one that we held very strongly, getting a little carried away as Robb cupped my head in his hands to pull me closer, until-

"ER-HEM!" Jory cleared his throat loudly from his corner. My blush turned luminescent as I jumped away, Robb staring at me besottedly with his own blush on his cheeks. Damn hormones.

"Lady Margaery, best be off to bed now." Jory reminded us firmly. "Lord Robb, you as well. The journey will be very harsh tomorrow. You both will need your rest."

"-not nearly paid enough for what Lord Stark told me to-", I think I heard Jory grumbling but that might have also been my imagination as he escorted me off to my own bedchambers.

* * *

If I thought the people of Deepwood Motte looked at me dismissively, they had nothing on the outright glares of the people of Bear Island, and I couldn't exactly blame them. Lynesse Hightower, my technical aunt, was the cause of a lot of Bear Island's recent misfortunes, as Jorah Mormont's quest to please Lynesse Hightower not only nearly bankrupted House Mormont, it also led to Jorah, its heir, becoming a sellsword in Essos.

Rationally, this was to be expected, as I had not proven myself to the various Houses of the North and had ensnared its heir in my thorny embrace. A good Southern Lady should be calm and graceful about it - not give them any inch to prove that they were right, and prove my worth over time.

Realistically? I'm sorry, but I was the Queen of Thorns's granddaughter, and I absolutely would not take any shit from them. They could be judgemental all they wanted, but I would prove my worth in the way that Grandmother had taught me - take no shit, and be the baddest bitch possible. Grandmother would be proud when she heard about this.

"Do Southron flowers like you even do anything but swoon at the sight of jousts? House Tyrell must spend a lot of time picking golden roses to make tapestries with - you've probably never held a weapon in your life, have you?" Dacey asked me, tauntingly, as we walked by the archery practice station.

Robb awkwardly attempted to mediate before shouting occurred, as my eyes twitched. It was getting harder and harder by the minute not to lash out with some very disrespectful curses. He squeezed my hand in what I think was supposed to be a reassuring manner, but I accidentally squeezed back too hard and earned a yelp of pain from him. Oops.

"Of course, my feeble Southron body would never think to hold weapons in my dainty hands", I demurred, with a fake smile plastered on my face, "but of course, certain weapons are more subtle and harder to find in Westeros. Common sense must be a premium up in Bear Island, I suppose."

I melodramatically sighed to play up the emotion further. "House Mormont must be under the impression that my hair is spun gold and my house, Hightower, rather than Tyrell. Perhaps Highgarden could send some Myrish eyes to Bear Island as a part of the dowry to... _assist_ , in the correction of this deficiency."

Dacey's face reddened. "Words are wind, Southron. Your looks may be pretty, but will you survive the cold winds of winter, or will you wither, like your lady aunt before you?" She sneered. "Lord Stark may need a more appropriate bride for his son, and House Mormont is happy to provide. Isn't that right, Lord Robb?" Robb paled, looking like he'd rather be anywhere but here.

Oh, that was _it_. They could question me all they want, but my relationship for Robb? _Over my dead body._

I released Robb's hand from mine, and strode towards the archery range we were at, and my hands moved to my sleeves, with the glint of steel visible from my sleeves, causing Dacey to tense.

"House Tyrell's words are 'Growing Strong', my lady," I said icily, all traces of humor wiped from my face. "A granddaughter of the Queen of Thorns will never be a fragile flower, but rather, a blooming winter rose." A cold smirk graced my face, and my hands blurred, nights of long practice and muscle memory blending itself together as I threw the two daggers hidden in my sleeve as gracefully as I could.

"And all roses, of course, have their thorns." I finished, smirk still in place, as a loud "THUNK" occurred. My daggers had impacted their targets, one near the center, and one halfway from the center on the right. Sloppy technique, still, as I had been aiming for the center, but passable, for what it was worth.

Dacey stared evaluatively at me for a second, staring at the daggers embedded in the target. She looked over at me, and then at Robb, and began to laugh uproariously.

"Mayhaps I had judged you wrongly, Lady Margaery." Dacey grinned. "Let's see if we can make a Northerner out of you yet."

And so began my fast friendship with Lady Dacey Mormont, accompanied by her three sisters, and on occasion, her mother, Maege, when she wasn't with Robb to teach him about the problems Bear Island faced. Apparently, word had spread around after my "loss of control" that I was a very different breed of Southerner than my dear aunt, and so, the glares lessened. In their minds, Southerners usually spent their time in the North complaining about the "backwater savages", throwing fancy tourneys, and spending more and more money, but a Southron not only willing, but happy to learn more about Northern customs, traditions, was a future Lady of Winterfell worth following.

I spent most of the second week joining the Mormont ladies horseback riding, practicing my weaponry, and participating in other activities "worth it" for a future Northern lady. Though an axe would not work very well for me, I was finally passable with a bow and arrow, which was actually pretty fun to use. Dacey, Alysanne, Jorelle and Lyra reminded me of my Southern clique of ladies, if they were totally disinclined towards gossip and were focused on athleticism instead, and it was great fun having them around.

More importantly, though, what the Mormont sisters gave me was backing within the various Northern Houses as a 'trustworthy' future lady of Winterfell, as well as knowledge on what Northern ladies were expected to learn. Northern women weren't exactly more progressive than Southron women, it was more that their roles were different, as I found out. Women in House Tyrell, for instance, got the chance to participate in courtly politics and advance the standing of their house in a subtle manner, but their power was essentially limited to their children and their relationship with its lord. Politicking did not exactly exist in the North, but women in the North, in dangerous areas, like Bear Island, learned to fight to ensure that the men could fish and gather resources for the family without worry for the children.

The history of the She-Wolves did lend itself to the belief of strength in Northern women, so long as they fought for the correct claims, and had the right blood, but at the end of the day, women in the North still were ruled by their men, and were subject to their Lord Husband's demands, as standard in a medieval society like Westeros. Robb, however, was someone that had grown up viewing his father and mother's partnership, and was thus, open to a partnership between a sufficiently clever Lady Wife and himself, which meant that I had more freedom than your average medieval lady. I could go on and on about Robb, but the proof is in the pudding, as they say.

And so, after another fun week, the Northern Tour officially ended, and the Mormont sisters, Jory, Robb, and I traveled back to Winterfell, along with our households.

* * *

Seeing the imposing gates of Winterfell took my breath away once again, and I suspect it would always take my breath away. With the light summer snow falling gently on the ground, the hearths in the distance, and the guards, it was absolutely stunning, a perfect place for a honeymoon or vacation, if it had existed in my old life. Robb smiled at my gobsmacked look, and the Mormont sisters, who had never once visited Winterfell, seemed to be as awed as I was when I first arrived.

"It's good to be home, isn't it?" Robb murmured quietly, our horses side by side. I nodded, smiling back at him, as the guards let us in, and we began to ride to the courtyard, to unload, and then later on, move to the stables.

As we got to the courtyard, we heard a commotion of noise.

"-c'mon Jon, they're here, they're here!" I heard Arya shouting. She had learned about the Mormonts, both from her family, and from Sansa and I, during our shared embroidery lesson, and as our horse approached the courtyard, there were metaphorical stars in her eyes as she pointed excitedly at the women of House Mormont. Sansa was also whispering excitedly in Jon's ear, standing on his other side, and poor Jon looked harried by the attention of his sisters. Lord Stark and Lady Stark were standing to the left of Sansa, Jon, and Arya, and I suspected that these introductions would require both of them to appear for these introductions for all of the Northern heirs. We must have been the first group here, because no other Northern nobles outside of House Stark were in the courtyard with us.

Robb stopped his horse in front of the courtyard, and I did the same, as we waited for Dacey, Alysanne, and Lyra to catch up. After they assembled, Robb lightly cleared his throat, and began to speak.

"Father, mother, let me introduce you to the noble ladies of House Mormont." Robb said in a clear voice. Robb introduced all four ladies of House Mormont, following procedure, and after he had done so, Lord Stark introduced himself, his other children, and the rest of his household, and ended, of course, with an invocation of guest right, the same way he did for the introduction of House Tyrell, even if I had spaced out during it. With the introductions over, Robb and I were free to dismount. I kissed him on the cheek and motioned for him to go, and he grinned at me, planting a kiss on my forehead before running off to Theon.

I went to Jon, who was still in between Sansa and Arya "Jon, I see you're besieged on all sides," I japed, and Jon laughed.

"Good-sister, please take these urchins off of my hands," Jon replied merrily. "Or, urchin, here, I'm not sure where the other one went." We both looked around, and found Arya - practically hanging off Dacey and Alysanne's every word as she chatted a mile a minute, as expected, as well as Bran, who was conversing with Lyra and Jorelle pretty excitedly.

Sansa pouted, disliking this reference, but Jon, in the way that all older siblings do, mussed her perfect hair, causing her to pout even harder at the sight of her now-imperfect hair.

"Of course, of course, good-brother." I said. "Go speak with Robb, I fear he may need a little break from me." Jon grinned, and hugged me, before going to speak to Robb, and Sansa took the opportunity to embrace me in a hug as well.

"Sister! It is so good to see you and Robb - embroidery was so boring without you, and Septa Mordane kept complaining about Arya's stitches! How was the tour?" Sansa asked excitedly.

We interlocked arms, as we continued to walk inside. I gossiped about my trip to her, and she was excited to hear everything, and even audibly gasped when I described my little 'incident'. Sansa's notions of ladylike behavior had definitely been challenged by me in a good way, as something which, in canon, would have probably caused her to sniff at and call "unrefined" was met with excitement and discussion of her own, as she melded the idea of a proper Northern lady and a proper Southern lady into her own personal blend of ladyship.

Eventually, we arrived in the kitchens, with Elinor and Megga joining the two of us, as we turned to the favorite subject of Southern ladies, talk about the Game of Thrones. Robb and I had been gone for about a moon or two, and Elinor had just recently received a letter updating her about the South, as well as some of the other news Lady Catelyn told Sansa, and we spent time gossipping merrily until Sansa said something that would change the game forever.

"Oh, Margaery, speaking of good news, I have some!" Sansa started, excitedly. "Mother just received a raven about a sennight ago from Grandfather with some news. Lord Tywin contacted Grandfather after the spree of betrothals and marriages, and it turns out that Uncle Edmure was still unmarried!"

Dread filled my stomach, as my brain connected the dots, and Sansa continued, obliviously.

"Grandfather agreed to betroth Uncle Edmure to Lady Cerenna Lannister! She's Lord Tywin's niece, as the sister to Lord Tywin's good-brother! Now the Seven Kingdoms really are connected. Isn't that great?"

_Fuck Westeros._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, Margaery. You really thought House Tyrell would get away with a spree of betrothals without Tywin making his very own? Hoster doesn't care who Edmure is betrothed to, so long as heirs are made and he gets a good dowry from it, but Tywin's offer is truly the perfect offer to be had. The Game of Thrones isn't as easy as that, and there will have to be a lot more work done to win the Game of Thrones.


	11. ROBB I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Northern Ball happens, to varying effects, and Robb and Margaery make their entrance into canon!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a doozy of a time to get this updated, but here it is - a new chapter, with a whole new perspective. I hope I've done Robb justice in this chapter, as I've been wanting to experiment with his POV (I mean, he is the other main character, after all), and in which, we cover the Northern Ball, a string of possible betrothals, and finally hit the mark to the beginning of AGOT and canon events! There will be plenty of surprises thrown in, and things will rapidly make itself clear as the plot develops to what I'm hoping involves some new and unique twists to the fanfiction itself. I hope you all enjoy the chapter!

**ROBB I**

_He was staring at a broken tower._

_A raven and a crow circled around a young pup, preparing to dive, but the young pup disappeared under the palm of a green hand with golden roses at the tips._

_The crow and raven affixed their eye on a young wolf with a wreath of winter roses around its neck, clearly in surprise. With dark fur and yellow eyes, the wolf stood protectively in front of the green hand, its teeth bared. After what seemed like an eternity, both avians dove, but the crow disappeared as the raven perched onto the wolf's head._

_The moment the raven landed, visions suddenly flashed._

" _-send their regards." A sudden stabbing pain._

_The smell of smoke, as a very familiar, heart-wrenching scream sounded. It was green that filled his vision, overwhelming and consuming him until-_

_**The Song has changed. You are not ready.** _

* * *

Robb awoke uneasily, so strange his dreams have been as of late. He had forgotten what he had dreamt about, but he had a feeling that it was important.

It was...early in the morning, the day after most of the heirs of the Northern lords he would be expected to rule over. The sun had just risen, and dawn had just broken. Robb shook off his daze and thought about the upcoming day's events - where he would most likely be expected to socialize with his future bannermen in spars as well as small conversations over meal times. He knew there was a ball at some point that his betrothed had planned along with his mother, and he was ready to show himself to the North.

_I will need to impress the lords and prove myself as heir to the North. I cannot fail now._

Robb quickly put on his armor and walked calmly to the training grounds near the Godswood. He would practice his moves alone and ensure that muscle memory kicked in during his spars. As he stepped outside, a familiar cold filled his body as the summer snow fell gently down on the training ground - it was a beautiful day outside, and perfect for a day of sparring.

Robb grabbed one of the training swords when he arrived at the grounds, and began to lose himself in the muscle memory of his strikes on the training dummy, running through whatever moves he knew and a few new tricks he had picked up from Jon in their spars together.

Time passed - he was not sure how long he had been outside, his muscles warmed up and his mind firmly locked on the mastery of his technique, until he heard the sound of a book page flipping. Robb turned around expectantly, long familiar with that sound after naps in the library, to stare at his betrothed, intently reading a large tome on a nearby bench, wearing a comfortable and fashionable blue wool gown. It seemed that Winterfell had not truly awoken, and save for the very few guards outside, the training ground was just him and her. Margaery slightly messed up hair, brushed in haste, and slightly disheveled appearance did not detract from her natural beauty - in fact, it only seemed to add to it, and his mouth went dry at the sight of her.

_Even in the simplest settings, her beauty still dazzles and enchants. What a fool I must look when I stare at my Margaery._

"...there was no need to stop practicing, my love. Reading's not exactly the same when there isn't the sound of swordplay to accompany it, or a free view whenever I get bored." Margaery's clear, bell-like voice noted in amusement.

"Perhaps I wanted to admire the view in front of me." Robb responded cheekily, closing the distance between them as he moved towards the bench. She smiled, clearing a little space for him, as he sat next to her and kissed her in greeting. The smell of light perfume and dusty smell of an old book

"What view?" Margaery asked, sardonically. "The view of your betrothed reading a text about Ibbenese economics to contrast it to the North? The men of Ib aren't just whalers, apparently, they trade in timber, amber, and animal pelts as well, which makes me wonder why on earth White Harbor doesn't trade with Ibben, if whalers come to King's Landing from such a far distance." She playfully poked Robb after finishing her remarks.

_What in the world is an "earth"? Her phrases can be very strange sometimes._

"The North doesn't trade in whale oil, my love, when Northmen can go whaling themselves," Robb observed. "Are you planning on some kind of trading empire, then? Mayhaps we should call you the 'Merchant Rose'", he teased,

Margaery's scrunched her brow, furrowed in thought.

"It wouldn't exactly be a bad idea, Robb," Margaery murmured, deep in thought. "There's a lot of actions we could do to develop the North. Finding a way to connect more of Essos to trade in White Harbor, as well as adding more ports for trade with the rest of the Seven Kingdoms would do wonders for the North, as well as encourage aspiring Southerners to come North for development. Mayhaps an institution of learning for Northern nobles, as well as smallfolk alike, to better improve the quality of the North, and…."

She paused in her rambling, and turned what Robb thought to be a particularly fetching shade of pink. Margaery looked embarrassed, stopping her train of thought to continue again.

"..oh, sorry, love, you know how I am sometimes. These are all merely some thoughts in my head, I don't want to supersede your authority as future Lord of Winterfell," Margaery noted, suddenly seeming very shy.

_These strange Southron notions have invaded her head again. Father and Mother make decisions equally for the good of the North, why shouldn't we?_

Robb paused for a moment to consider his words. After a long moment, he began to speak.

"..I know I had originally said that comment as a jape, but it is clear you have put a lot of thought into this. Of course I am to consider your thoughts - you are my future Lady Wife and I love you! I will admit that I am not entirely sure how we would begin those processes, but we have plenty of time to figure it out." Robb stated.

Margaery's shy look was replaced by a confident smirk, and her brown eyes locked with Robb's blue eyes as they stared at one another lovingly. Robb was helpless to that look, leaning in to kiss Margaery thoroughly. They lost themselves in one another for a few moments, particularly without a guard or chaperone, but after about a minute, Robb hesitantly pulled away, eliciting a disappointed sigh from Margaery.

"The wolf ensnares the rose, or perhaps it may be the other way around." Margaery japed. "Now off with you, the ball is soon and we need to prepare to impress your bannermen."

* * *

"Father, Mother, you called for me?" Robb asked, as he entered the Winterfell solar.

Robb had prepared himself in his fanciest clothes, and looked every bit the dashing heir to Winterfell he was, in preparation for meeting his fellow nobles and future bannermen.

"Yes. We have much to discuss." Ned replied soberly, with Catelyn standing at his shoulder.

_Is Father planning something? Or is he warning me before the Ball?_

"What happened? Is there, mayhaps, something I need to know about?"

Lady Catelyn smiled.

"Oh sweetling, nothing has necessarily happened, but your father and I have called you to the solar to impart a lesson regarding your future rule as a Lord. We thought to do so before the Ball."

"Your mother is correct. It was she who insisted we summon you. But I digress..Catelyn, if you will?

Catelyn cleared her throat.

"Robb, what if I were to tell you that none of the Northern betrothals you and your father discussed had happened yet?" she asked, in the same way she phrased questions in her childrens' politics lessons.

"...but I thought the betrothals were needed to soothe the bannermen, because I am betrothed and will eventually marry Margaery," Robb responded, confused.

"That is correct. Robb. However, not all betrothals necessarily work out. Mine own siblings proved that winter can be harsh in changing the fates of others." Ned noted. Catelyn shook her head and sighed.

"What your lord father means to say, Robb, is that words, especially the words in a promised betrothal, are wind. I was betrothed to your Uncle Brandon before eventually marrying your Lord Father. It is our intention, however, to ensure that each betrothal agreement we actually decide on to actually work, and this Ball has given us a unique opportunity to ensure so, and avoid problematic situations in the future," she clarified.

_How in the seven hells does this relate to me?_

"Normally, the Lord and Lady of Winterfell would preside over the betrothal process alone, but your lady mother noted that I would be remiss in allowing you an opportunity to experience this process first hand, as you will need to do so someday with your own children." Ned explained. "That is why you will participate in this process - not only for your own education as a Lord in negotiating dowries, but in some measure, a way to assist your siblings with your experience in attaining their own happiness."

"Father, Mother, I don't think I understand. Did you not already have a plan for each of us?" Robb asked, hesitantly.

"Not every plan is an ideal plan. For instance, say Bran is charmed by another Lady in the North as opposed to a possible betrothal to Lady Wynafryd Manderly. Would it not be best to avoid the suffering it would cause to have a loveless betrothal, when, say, Lord Manderly can have a Manderly good-son in Jon that would not cause scandal?" Catelyn proposed.

"...so, I am expected to intervene in the lives of mine own sibling and decide their betrothals? That hardly seems fair, when I was allowed a choice for my betrothal to Margaery." Robb pointed out, incensed.

"We are not asking you to decide on the betrothals of your siblings - that will be a combination of input from our bannermen, your own siblings, our decisions as Lord and Lady of Winterfell, and finally, you." his mother explained.

"All we are asking of you is to observe your siblings during the ball, my son. To see which lords and ladies work with your siblings, and to add any input that you have noticed. We will take care of the rest - until which you will be working with both of us to negotiate the dowry between your siblings and their respective betrotheds. Your siblings will have the same amount of choice as you during the process." his father added.

Robb nodded, satisfied with the explanation.

"Who will need to be betrothed then? I understand that Rickon is too young for a betrothal."

"You would be correct. As your lady mother tells me, Sansa will most likely do better in the South, and plans will most likely be made for her assuming that case. However, your other siblings - Bran, Arya, and Jon - will most likely be betrothed-" Ned began, with his wife nodding in approval.

"-these will not be the only Northern betrothals, however. Nearly all of the lords and ladies of the North have sent their unmarried children to this ball, and it may be up to you and Lady Margaery to help push those betrothals along." Catelyn added, with a sly look. "This may seem much, but as Heir to Winterfell, your lord father and I wish to ensure the best for you and your betrothed. Do not worry, my son, we believe in your every success, and we will, of course, do our best to help."

_Father and Mother are correct in this move, but so much rests on me. I must do what I can to ensure success for House Stark._

"I will do it, father, mother." Robb said calmly. A comfortable silence filled the room.

"Oh, Ned, the first feast begins in an hour, we must be ready!" Catelyn noticed. His father laughed.

"Off with you, lad." Ned said fondly. "We have a feast to attend, it seems."

* * *

"Enjoying yourself, Stark?" Robb asked his sullen brother cheerily. "Or should I ask one of the Manderly girls to cheer you up? The ball has been magnificent so far, and the way you are acting, it's almost as if it were a funeral."

Jon groaned. "Don't you mean Snow? Besides, just because I'm not always participating in the ball doesn't mean I'm miserable."

The ball had been executed splendidly by Robb's mother, with assistance from Margaery, Sansa, and Arya, and the hot water system at Winterfell, as well as the hearths, kept the makeshift ballroom that was the dining hall warm and cheerful. Food had been eaten and plenty of Northern ale had been consumed, leading to a lot of dances and cheers from revellers every once in awhile. His father even remarked quietly to him that this was the happiest he had seen Winterfell since before Robert's Rebellion - all in all, the Northern Ball was a major success.

Robb looked at his brother seriously. "You'll always be a Stark to me, brother. Was that not you charming Lady Wynafryd at the dance earlier?"

"She beset herself on me!" Jon grumbled quietly, cheeks reddening. Robb sniggered.

"Beset? You make it sound as though she was waiting somewhere to ambush you, like some kind of bandit. Should I be worried about Lady Wynafryd stealing your virtue? She kept conversing with you for an awfully long time." Robb joked, and mimed calling for guardsmen.

"No!" Jon yelped, his cheeks becoming a magnificent pink. Margaery had told Robb that Jon looked especially "pretty" for a Stark, and looking at Jon's face, he could understand the sentiment that drove many Northern women to him.

With clear signs from Robb's father, Eddard Stark, that Jon was essentially a second son in the Stark household, even if his technical inheritance would be after Arya and any other trueborn children of his father and mother, and Catelyn Stark's encouragement of the matter, it was clear that Jon would likely inherit a holdfast equivalent to another son, and would possibly be legitimized.

Rumors, of course, had flown around the Northern delegation - would Jon be in charge of Moat Cailin? Sea Dragon Point? Another holdfast somewhere in the Gift? This only stirred the flames of Jon's popularity, as Robb was already betrothed and Bran was young, and so Jon had been fending off suitors for the entirety of the ball, a fact that amused Robb to no end.

"What's this I hear about our very own Jon Snow? Are the Northern ladies suddenly wildlings attempting to snatch Jon's virtue?" Theon added to the jape.

Robb laughed uproariously at Jon, who had at this point, hidden his face in his hands.

"-s'not funny, Robb," he heard his embarrassed brother grouse. "I'm just tired, that's all."

Theon suddenly paled. "Sansa has just finished gossiping with Mira Forrester and is headed our way. I'm going to go." He headed directly for the food, to avoid Sansa.

Jon groaned once more. "Please kill me now."

"If Sansa arrives here, your wish is granted - you know she will 'cajole' us into participating once more if we stand here, and you remember the last time that happened," Robb muttered quietly, causing both teens to shudder.

Sansa, in her self-appointed role as the "Queen" of House Stark, was very serious about encouraging her siblings, particularly Robb and Jon, to socialize with the bannermen, and 'cajoled' her erstwhile brothers through a combination of stern lectures and wheedling them with tears in her eyes, in one particularly memorable attempt. Robb, and Jon were certainly not immune to their sister's tears, particularly Jon, and so they agreed with what she said.

Jon sighed, standing up, and saw Arya chatting animatedly with Domeric.

"I think I'm going to see how Arya is doing," Jon noted.

Robb stared across the ballroom - Margaery was deep in conversation with Dacey Mormont and "Smalljon" Umber, with a particularly cunning look in her eye, most likely indicating that she was attempting to set another betrothal between their bannermen. Thankfully, Dacey seemed more indulgent than anything - his betrothed's friendship with the Mormont sisters had seemed incomprehensible at first, but it was clear that they had become very fast friends.

Robb put his palm on Jon's shoulder.

"I think I'll join you as well." Robb said, and the two Stark brothers walked to the dining table to Arya's conversation.

"Say that again, stupid! I'll beat you on horseback any day!" they heard Arya stating fiercely.

Instead of getting frustrated or angry like Robb had expected, Domeric laughed cheerily at Arya, clearly amused at her antics.

"You'd like to race, my lady? We raced quite a bit in the Vale, and I'd love to compete with you on horseback," Domeric calmly remarked. "We can head to the stables right now - I'm sure it'd be more interesting than the feast for you, Lady Arya."

Arya turned to Jon expectantly, knowing that her favorite brother would not deny her request.

"Could you come with us Jon, please?" Arya begged. "It's way better than the stupid feast and dancing outside."

Jon sighed, motioning for Arya and Domeric to follow him, and off they went to the stables to do some racing.

It had surprised Robb, honestly, as he had suspected that Domeric Bolton, from what he knew, would be a good match for Sansa - Domeric had all the makings of a tourney knight, and with his love of the harp and soft-spoken nature, Robb had assumed that Domeric would get along well with Sansa.

However, the ten nameday difference between Domeric and Arya had not stopped them from a fast friendship, where Arya's bold nature and love of horses, swords, and all things adventure seemed to complement Domeric's similar love for horses, swords, and adventures. Domeric's soft-spoken nature seemed to work complementarity with Arya's bold nature, and Robb could see a possibility for a betrothal Arya wouldn't hate, especially as a lady in the North.

Robb was surprised to realize he would most likely be recommending a betrothal between the two, and Domeric and Arya would have plenty of time to grow into that relationship. Margaery had told Robb that Roose Bolton wanted a Stark good-daughter, and the time period did not seem so long with Arya and Domeric's friendship. Lord Bolton had even offered for Domeric to foster with House Stark, instead of staying at the Dreadfort as originally planned, in order to promote a match.

Robb peered around for Sansa, but she had seemingly found Jeyne and another few members of her entourage, such as Beth Cassel, and they giggled together as they observed the ball around them. Jeyne suddenly pointed at Theon, and the giggles seemed to start anew.

_Best not to break that up. I suppose I will find my Margaery, now._

Robb walked over to the table Margaery was at. Along the way, he noticed Theon accompanying Rickon, amusing his younger brother, and Bran, with Jojen and Meera Reed. Robb didn't know much about the crannogmen, save for the tales that Old Nan had told him, but it was clear that Bran was enthralled with Meera and Jojen's description of the Neck. Perhaps something could be made out of it - Moat Cailin was close to the Neck, after all.

By the time Robb had reached Margaery, Smalljon and Dacey were long gone. He took a seat next to his betrothed, put an arm around her shoulder, and kissed her brow gently, causing her to startle briefly, before relaxing and curling into Robb. Septa Mordane was watching carefully, but Robb assumed that nothing particularly dishonorable was happening with Robb and Margaery as of the moment, which is why he suspected she had allowed this.

"How did the talk go?" Robb asked curiously.

Margaery smirked. "I was pretty sure Smalljon was enamored with Dacey at first glance, so I found an excuse to get them together. Dacey was pretty impressed by Smalljon, but was unsure of his intention, so a nice conversation, and a bit of hinting have them on the dance floor together. Let's see if a betrothal can be made from that."

"My love, ever the schemer, I see," Robb declared fondly. "Between Mother, you, and Sansa, I'm convinced that the entirety of the North will be married off by the end of this ball."

"The affection exists, and Lord Stark knew what he was doing when he declared this ball, I'm just connecting what is already there," Margaery said, leaning into Robb. She giggled quietly, causing Robb to look at her askance. Margaery continued to giggle, and when she stopped, she elaborated on her train of thought.

"Sorry, I'm just thinking about Jon. I'm glad for him, you know? But the look on his face when he was surrounded by Lady Wynafryd, Lady Eddara, and Lady Mira was priceless. He looked as though he would light on fire, with how embarrassed he was."

"Jon complained that Lady Wynafryd had beset herself upon him, as if she was some kind of wildling woman!" Robb added.

Margaery burst out into helpless giggles, and Robb laughed with her, before looking at her fondly.

Soon, we will be married, and soon, she will learn to be Lady of Winterfell, as I will learn to be a Lord of Winterfell. I cannot wait for that day, as I am sure she cannot either.

"Jon could marry Lady Wynafryd and become Lord Consort of White Harbor - it would not be a particularly bad decision for him," Margaery spoke thoughtfully. "It would also relieve me greatly that Jon has a good position that he deserves, and I am sure Lord Manderly would not be opposed."

Robb nodded absentmindedly - he had been considering that too, but he would need to talk to his father about any final decisions.

"Are you happy up North? After seeing our bannermen, are you content with being lady of Winterfell?" Robb whispered, a bout of insecurity overtaking him.

 _Are you happy with me, as I am with you?_ Both Robb and Margaery understood the silent question asked. After a timeless moment, Margaery broke the silence.

"There is nowhere else in Westeros or Essos, I would rather be," Margaery answered quietly and firmly. "We will rule the North together, and we will make it Grow Strong, because Winter is Coming."

Robb grinned into her hair, and he cuddled Margaery further, as they let the rest of the Ball wash over them. It had been a resounding success.

* * *

The ball and its revelries continued over the course of the fortnight, with Lord and Lady Stark watching very carefully over the supplies, with the celebrations coming to a peak after a deserter's execution within that time, as the Northmen exulted as they saw a "sign of the Old Gods" come to life.

Eddard Stark, followed by Robb, Jon, Theon, and many of the other Northern lordlings, had come to watch a Northern execution in real time, and in the process, found a clutch of direwolves - the mother direwolf, gored by a stag in the head, though the stag, following it in death, and six direwolf pups, alive; five grey wolves, with yellow eyes, and one albino wolf, with red eyes. When they had arrived back, the celebrations had continued almost in a frenzy, as a direwolf had not been seen South of the Wall in the past few centuries, and it was a clear sign, according to the Northern lords, of Northern prosperity in the future.

Robb himself had mostly dismissed it, but his time, like his siblings, was consumed by his new direwolf pup, which Margaery had insisted he name Grey Wind. Grey Wind was fiercely loyal to Robb, and Margaery, and it was very common now to see a pup in the library, sleeping next to Margaery as she read her texts, or with Robb, in the training field, watching attentively as its master sparred with the other Northern lordlings.

Furthermore, Robb and Margaery spent more time planning their wedding, which was scheduled to happen in roughly two to three moonturn. House Tyrell, as well as Willas and Arianne, according to Margaery's letter, were scheduled to leave in about a moonturn or so towards Winterfell.

However, one morning, around the time the ball had begun to draw to a close, Robb's mother would announce something that would change the status quo in Winterfell by quite a lot, which would cause Margaery to pale and panic, as though for what reason, Robb did not know.

"We have received a raven from the South," Catelyn stated, with House Stark, Margaery, Theon, and Domeric eating along in the main solar. "The Hand of the King, Jon Arryn, has passed away. King Robert and his party rides to Winterfell."


End file.
